Pensieve Souls
by Jemennuie
Summary: Amidst Voldemort's rise, a new DADA teacher joins the staff during Harry's 6th year and attempts to juggle an angry Snape who wishes he had the DADA position himself and family trouble from the past, while Hermione tries to discover the origin of Dumbledore's Pensieve; AU-ish.
1. Prologue

.

**Prologue**

A poor idea.

It was in retrospect, at least.

It had been cold and cloudy that summer, a summer where strangers walked the street with hunched shoulders and knitted brows and the furrows underneath their eyes etched with mistrust. It was the summer when Florean Fortescue's shop closed, the cobblestones of Diagon Alley were graced only with furtively hurried footsteps, and the goblin's coldly calculating registrars had announced a 1.2% increase in unemployment and a 3.6% decrease in GDP.

It was, in short, the summer You-Know-Who had risen, like sulphur from the earth, like hushed voices and haunted glances, like death.

That was the summer where small classified ads in the Daily Prophet announced in an understated voice that Hogwarts was, once again, searching for a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and strangers chuckled at the thought, but she turned the corner of that ad over, and turned that thought over and over in her mind until she sent a neatly written letter and her resume to Hogwarts.

Now, however, it was becoming clear that she should have listened to the knitted brows and hurried footsteps, the hushed voices and haunted glances, and not the goblins' stark black numbers and the thought: _Wouldn't it be nice to have a stable job?_

In retrospect.

Of course, she wouldn't be in the position she was in now, looking back at her decision to apply for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, if _he_ hadn't lied, but she supposed her hands weren't exactly clean either.

Lies, after all, made the world go round.

…

A/N: All following chapters will be longer than this one, as this is only the prologue. Also, this is a rewrite of a story I have on my old account, but I am publishing it anew because there are a large number of differences between this and the original story. This re-write is dedicated to all of my wonderful reviewers from the first version of this story :)

Thanks to the fabulous kci47 for beta-reading!

Disclaimer for this and all following chapters: I don't own Harry Potter and its associated characters/ universe, and I am not earning any profit from this. The image of Alan Rickman in the story icon similarly does not belong to me.


	2. Ch1: The Start of the School Year

**Chapter 1: The Start of the School Year**

Normally, when Severus went to the Headmaster's office, he would start straight away with his reason for being there. Enter the office and start talking. Whether it was to bring information from the Dark Lord or to rant about a certain green-eyed, messy-haired Gryffindor, there was no point in dilly-dallying or politely waiting for Dumbledore to guess why he was there. There was only one time each year when Severus would violate his own rules of efficiency by entering Dumbledore's office, wordlessly taking a seat and waiting for Dumbledore to start the conversation. This time happened to be that one time of the year and, in keeping with this tradition, Severus silently took a seat opposite the Headmaster once the Gargoyle admitted him.

The white-haired man momentarily glanced up from his desk to see who the visitor was, before returning his gaze to a few scattered pieces of parchment and briefly writing something down. "So quiet today, Severus," he said with an amused smile on his face. "Quite different from your normal behavior."

"I see no need to waste my breath when you doubtlessly know why I am here."

"Yes, I do have my suspicions," Dumbledore said, continuing to write on the piece of parchment in front of him.

After a few moments in which neither man spoke, Severus broke the silence. "Well?"

" 'Well', what?" the other man replied, his blue eyes shining with restrained amusement.

"There are only a few days until the start of the new school year."

"And I am sure you are absolutely bubbling with joy at the idea of teaching our new first years."

Severus flashed him a rather sour expression before smoothly replying, "Yes, but I would like to know what subject I will be teaching those…charming…first years. If I recall correctly, the applications to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor were rather lacking this year."

"They are rather lacking every year, Severus."

"Specifically, I remember there being only the one application," he pressed.

"The one?" the Headmaster innocently asked.

"Mine, Dumbledore."

"Ah, yes." Dumbledore continued nonchalantly scribbling on a piece of parchment.

Severus leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the Headmaster's desk. "Need I remind you, there are scores of qualified Potions Masters who would eagerly submit their applications were an opening to become available at Hogwarts."

"I don't imagine that will be necessary, Severus, unless you are planning on leaving us?"

"No, but I am the only one who has applied for the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. I also imagine you agree that it would be unacceptable for the students to not have a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year, especially with the rise of the Dark Lord..." Severus silkily trailed off.

"I am not concerned that the students won't have a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Which reminds me, did I tell you I received another application for the position recently?"

Severus bristled in his seat and coldly asked, "When exactly were you planning on telling me this?"

"I believe I just did," the other man replied, a perpetually pleasant expression on his face. "Why, this means within the past week the number of applicants for the position has doubled. If it continues at this rate—"

"Then we'd have four applicants before the beginning of the school year," Severus sharply cut off the other man's playful words.

"Four applicants would be a new record," Dumbledore thoughtfully replied.

Undeterred, Severus acridly continued, "Perhaps you could suggest to the applicant that they apply for the position of Potions Master."

Dumbledore brushed a stack of parchment to the side before picking up one of the sheets and glancing at it. "No, I don't believe that would work particularly well. Judging by her OWLs, she appears to have done rather poorly in Potions."

"I'm sure the students wouldn't notice."

Dumbledore politely acknowledged Severus's words with a nod of the head. "But before we start down this path again, I should probably be leaving; I'm due to interview the applicant soon."

"Why not simply accept her, as she is apparently the only applicant?" Severus said sarcastically.

"Considering some of the previous applicants, it's always useful to meet the people who are going to be working for you." With those parting words, Dumbledore stepped into his office's floo and was whisked away by the rushing sound of the flickering flames, leaving Severus alone in the office with Fawkes.

"I dislike the new professor already," Severus muttered. He glanced at Dumbledore's desk, where the applicant's resume was currently lying. "So her name is Liseli Colburn, is it?"

* * *

><p>Liseli, for her part, was anxiously waiting for Dumbledore at the Leaky Cauldron, the decided upon location of the interview. The start of the Second War was having negative repercussions on all of the wizarding world's economy and the Leaky Cauldron was just one more victim: normally filled with the amicable chatter of wizards and witches, not to mention other species and other tongues, it was currently populated with only a few customers and a lone bartender who was morosely polishing unused silverware.<p>

The near emptiness of the Leaky Cauldron did little to distract Liseli from her nervousness, though, and she continued impatiently drumming her fingers on the table and fidgeting with the cuffs of her robes. It was ridiculous, really, how nervous she was. She had had dozens of job interviews before; why should this one be any different? She supposed there was the fact that Dumbledore was one of the most influential members of the wizarding community, and was Headmaster of one of the best schools in Europe and—Merlin, no wonder she was nervous, and she had barely scratched the surface.

There was a slight jingling sound as the door to the Leaky Cauldron opened, and in swept Dumbledore. Leaping up from her seat, Liseli promptly crashed into her table and greeted him with an embarrassed wince, "It's nice to see you, Headmaster."

"Always a pleasure to see former Hogwarts students. This should be a short little interview, so no need to be nervous; I promise I don't bite," he said pleasantly, gesturing for them to take a seat. "So what made you decide to apply to be a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"

"I like teaching and it seems like being a Hogwarts professor would be a nice change of pace." She accompanied her words with an enthusiastic smile.

Dumbledore carefully regarded her with a rather piercing look, before lightly adding, "I thought I would ask because with the start of the Second War, I'm sure the population as a whole has rather mixed feelings towards Hogwarts."

"Oh, really? I can't say the start of the Second War has influenced my opinion of Hogwarts at all."

"I'm glad to hear that," the Headmaster said. "I wasn't sure if that would influence your decision to apply or not."

"No, it hasn't influenced my decision." After a second, she added another nervous smile to her words.

He tilted his head and, after a moment, a cheerful smile broke out across his face. "Well, Liseli, I look forward to seeing you on the first day of classes."

* * *

><p>By the time Liseli finally entered Hogwarts' Great Hall, the welcome banquet for the beginning of the year had almost ended. Some of the students were slowly making their way towards the room's exits, while a handful were leisurely milling about the colorfully decorated house tables. Even the professors' table had gaps from those who had already gone and left the emptying of the hall to other professors. Liseli surreptitiously made her way to the professor's table, but her hope that her absence hadn't been noticed was quickly shattered by Dumbledore approaching her, his blue eyes twinkling.<p>

"I was wondering where you were. Why, with our record of Defense Against the Dark Arts professors I was worried you might have been mauled by a Manticore on your way to Hogwarts."

"No, nothing of the sort," she said sheepishly. "Has that — er — happened before?"

"Only twice," Dumbledore pleasantly replied.

She blinked at the white-haired man, and vaguely started wondering if perhaps accepting this job had been a bad idea. With a gesture of her hand she indicated the Great Hall, "Did I miss anything?"

"Just announcements and the Sorting. I'm sure you'll catch up, though. I'm glad to hear the Manticores have been quiet as of late." With a smile and a tip of his hat, Dumbledore departed to talk to a few of the remaining professors.

Suddenly aware of the acute pangs of a missed dinner gnawing at her stomach, she decided to take some food from one of the nearly empty banquet tables and bring it back with her to her quarters. Having visited Hogwarts a few days ago in an attempt to familiarize herself with the layout of her old school, she was able to recognize and descend the staircases to the dungeons after only slight hesitation. She had just made it to the cinderblock depths of the lower levels of the dungeons, and was nibbling on a piece of bread when someone passed her in the hallway.

The man emotionlessly glanced at her and after continuing a few paces past her, suddenly stopped and turned towards her. "May I ask what business you have here?"

Rather inelegantly in the middle of chewing a piece of bread, she wordlessly regarded the man with a frown: the sallow hue of his face, greasy tint to his hair, and hooked nose seemed familiar but she couldn't remember from where. "Pardon?"

In an almost menacing manner, he took a step closer and repeated, "I asked what you are doing wandering through the dungeons."

"If you must know, I'm on the way to my quarters. I could ask the same of you, though," she replied coolly. The man raised his eyebrows in a look of condescending amusement; the expression on his face clearly stated that he thought answering such questions was beneath him, and Liseli felt a surge of dislike for the haughty man. Brushing the bread crumbs off of her fingers before extending her hand, she stated, "I don't believe we've met before. Liseli Colburn."

He glanced between her hand and her face and pointedly ignored her hand. "Severus Snape. If you are looking for your professor's quarters you seem to be sorely lost — they are generally located by House."

That was why the man had seemed familiar; Snape had belonged to one of the groups of aggressive Slytherin boys a few years above her while at Hogwarts. "For your information, I am not in the least bit lost, but thank you for your concern."

"Unless you are a Slytherin, your quarters are not located in the dungeons."

"I am a Slytherin," she sharply articulated, using a tone normally reserved for the extremely obvious, things like 'The sky is blue,' or 'Don't try and give the Whomping Willow a massage.' "I also feel compelled to point out that we were in Slytherin at the same time."

His eyebrows rose slightly before he snidely replied without a hint of an apology in his voice, "I'm sorry, but I don't remember you."

"Let me trigger your memory: you set my homework on fire once."

"I'm afraid you're going to have to be more specific."

Liseli, unsure if he was actually being serious, shot him a look of disbelief before speaking, "I wasn't aware that you set that many homework assignments on fire."

"I found it to be a rather efficient way of encouraging people to be less disruptive. If I set your homework on fire I imagine it's because you were talking in the library, or something of the like."

A slight pink tinge crept across Liseli's face. "For your information, I was talking in the library because it was a group project," she acidly stated, before deciding the conversation was rather pointless and that she ought to just cut it short.

She began walking down the hall, and heard Snape reply, "Surely you're aware that there are places to do group projects. Places like the Slytherin common room, where talking is permitted."

Without deigning to reply, she continued on her way. She remembered Snape as being involved in nearly half of Hogwarts' hallway skirmishes as a student, and she couldn't help but think that, at this rate, she'd be firing curses at him soon enough.

…

A/N: Many thanks to kci47 for beta-reading and my reviewers for all of their feedback! As a general note, while this story clearly deviates from canon (e.g. there's no Slughorn as potions professor and there will be a number of entirely new events and plot points), the stuff that's going on in the background can generally be assumed to be similar to Harry's 6th year unless otherwise specified (e.g. Draco is still a DE trying to kill Dumbledore). Also, while this story will mainly switch between Liseli's and Severus's POVs, there will be a smaller number of chapters from the POV of the Golden Trio.


	3. Ch2: The First Day of Classes

**Chapter 2: The First Day of Classes**

Harry blearily rubbed his eyes. It was far, far too early for this. He wasn't awake enough to know what 'this' even was, just to know it was too early for it. Classes he supposed. Or just waking up. Yes, that's what it was too early for. Surely it was too early for even the sun to be as shining as brightly as it was. Jamming his glasses onto his face and tripping into a pair of robes, he stumbled down the stairs to the Great Hall.

"Merlin, I haven't woken up this early since — si —" Ron's words were cut off by a noisy yawn and a second later Harry felt himself yawn in unison. "Since we last had school," the red-head finally finished his sentence. Looking considerably more chipper than either of the boys, Hermione joined them at the table with an enthusiastic greeting. "You seem to have an awful lot of energy," Ron commented to Hermione, looking rather as though he was closer to being asleep than awake. "Have any to spare?"

Hermione simply answered with a smile before stating, "My prefect duties didn't give me time to ask you two last night, but what did you think of Dumbledore's speech?"

Ron shrugged his shoulders. "I don't think people being allowed to go home on the weekends is going to change much. It just means we'll see the spoiled brats like Malfoy that much less, so I'm all for it."

"Isn't that a problem in itself, though?" Harry replied, a line creasing his forehead as he intensely stared at the Slytherin table. "It'll give him and other Slytherins the chance to become more involved with the Death Eaters."

Hermione gave an exasperated roll of her eyes. "Draco Malfoy is not a Death Eater. He's _sixteen_. I found it more interesting the way Dumbledore phrased his speech. Didn't you notice?"

"Notice what?" Ron and Harry replied in unison.

"Everyone going home for the weekend has to line up at 8 AM on Saturday in front of one of the four public floos that's monitored by the Head of the House. Prefects and the Head Boy and Girl are going to be trained to monitor the floos, too, in case the Head of the House is unavailable for some reason. And Dumbledore emphasized that even if every single student wants to go home on the weekend, the process should take less than fifteen minutes." At the last sentence she raised an eyebrow and gave the two boys a significant look.

"So? They don't want to keep the floos open all day," said Ron as he reached for another slice of toast.

"Fifteen minutes? Not thirty? Not an hour?" She continued without waiting for a response, "It sounds to me like an evacuation plan. They're preparing Hogwarts for an attack, and this'll give people more practice than drills ever could."

The two Gryffindor boys shifted uncomfortably in their seats at such a thought. "But Hogwarts is the safest place in the world," Harry said mechanically.

"Clearly they're worried it's not. It probably is high on You-Know-Who's list, what with Dumbledore here and — " Hermione abruptly cut herself off and busied herself with arranging her book bag.

"And me," Harry finished her thought.

"We should get going," said Hermione instead, carefully balancing her bag as she stood up. "It's almost time for class."

"Personally, I think it's time for a nap," Ron said after yawning again. "What class do we have? Anything nap-friendly?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," Harry read from his heavily creased schedule.

"Perfect! I can go back up to the dormitories to nap, then."

"Ron!"

"Hermione, there wasn't even a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at the Welcome Feast yesterday. Can't have a class without a professor, can we?" He gave a triumphant, teasing grin to accompany his words.

"Dumbledore said we had a new professor," she stated in a final-sounding manner.

"Hey, Seamus," Ron grabbed the other Gryffindor's attention as he, Harry and Hermione walked towards the class. "Do you think we actually have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"

"Sure we do. I was just talking with Dean about how it's probably the Giant Squid. Think about it: that would explain why there was no one at the year opening banquet," Seamus explained matter-of-factly.

Lavender, who had been walking a bit in front of them, slowed down to jump into the conversation. "I hope it's another centaur!" she blurted out. After she finished speaking her gaze seemed to stick to Ron like a particularly annoying piece of Spiderweb Bubblegum, and he gave her an awkward smile before attempting to avoid eye contact.

"Centaurs don't like wizards," Seamus corrected her, earning a venomous glance from the offended Gryffindor.

"And the Giant Squid does?" Lavender said huffily.

By the time they finally arrived at the classroom, Harry had heard more about the relative teaching attributes of centaurs, Giant Squids, mermen, Flobberworms and Blast-Ended Skrewts than he had ever cared to hear. To the class's disappointment, when they entered the classroom there was neither a centaur, a mermaid, the Whomping Willow, or the Giant Squid there to greet them. Instead, sitting behind the professor's desk was a short, rather plain-looking woman whose light brown hair was pulled into a braid.

"Fine, we do have a professor," Ron grumbled as he slid behind a desk. "There goes my nap."

It appeared their group of Gryffindors was the last to enter, for they had barely taken their seats when the professor stated without preamble, "Abbott, Hannah."

"Uh, yes?" The blonde girl replied in an unsure tone.

"Bones, Susan."

Grasping a bit more quickly that she was calling attendance, Susan Bones said, "Here."

The professor briskly continued down the list of names, pausing occasionally to scribble something in the margins. If Harry had not grown accustomed long ago to stares and reactions upon hearing his name, he might have cared more about her raising an eyebrow and hesitating slightly when she called his name. As it was, he was impatient enough for roll call to be finished that he barely heard his name.

"Harry!" Hermione whispered, elbowing him slightly.

"Here!" he blurted out, hoping that that was why Hermione had been trying to grab his attention. The drone of names continued and he slouched back into his seat, idly debating whether he should reform the DA now that Umbridge was gone.

The professor finished roll call and began pacing the front of the classroom, her heels clicking against the stone tiles as she addressed the class. "My name is Professor Colburn, and I am the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. As this is your first class of the day, I am pleased to see that everyone made it out of bed this morning to be here. And conscious," she added the last phrase with a glance at Ron, who was balancing his chin in his hands in a poor impression of being awake.

When her gaze had shifted from the red-haired boy, Harry quickly shook his shoulder. With a lethargic opening of his eyes, Ron shrugged his shoulders and fell back into his sleeping posture.

"Your teaching in this subject has been varied, at best," Colburn continued, her eyes roaming around the room from student to student. "I imagine it will take me at least a few weeks to become acquainted with what you have and, more importantly, have not learned, so until then I have a number of pre-planned lessons that I hope you will all find relevant." By this time, the professor's pacing had found her by the chalk board. "Who can tell me what happened this summer, in relation to Azkaban?"

A scattering of hands rose, and she pointed towards someone sitting in the row behind Harry. Hannah Abbott's voice responded, "Most of the Dementors abandoned their posts as guards of Azkaban."

"Exactly. And why is this relevant? Yes, you, the boy in the corner."

"Dementors used to be only in Azkaban, but now they could be anywhere in England, couldn't they?" Ernie Macmillan uncertainly replied.

"And they've been replicating, too. There's more of them than there used to be," Lavender Brown blurted out.

"Dementors don't exactly replicate," Colburn replied slowly. "But I suppose that's enough to start off the lesson." With a wave of her wand, letters started appearing one by one on the chalkboard. "Even though we perceive Dementors as multiple, distinct entities, there is only one Dementor essence. The individual entities we see are partitions of this one essence. I say 'essence' instead of 'soul' because what Dementors have can best be described as the negative imprint of a soul. Current theory is that the more despair Dementors absorb, the larger this essence of theirs grows, which results in us perceiving more Dementors."

"If Dementors grow by feeding off of human despair, where did the first one come from?" Parvati Patil spoke while raising her hand into the air.

"I think that is stretching into the realm of philosophy," Colburn lightly replied. "Theories abound, ranging from poetic to ridiculous, but functionally speaking we don't know. Now, onto the practical lesson of today. Who knows how to defend oneself against a Dementor?"

The words "_Expecto Patronum_" and "a Patronus" chorused through the room, courtesy of the former DA members.

"You've already done Dementors?" Colburn looked almost disappointed. "I didn't notice that in the previous teachers' lesson plans."

"We didn't cover them in class," Harry said. "Some of us just learned a bit about them on our own."

She nodded. "Well, in that case I'll continue with the lesson as planned. Review for some of you." Harry idly doodled in the margins of his notes while she gave them a lecture describing the Patronus charm that sounded remarkably similar to the description Harry had given to the DA last year. When he glanced up from his diligent coloring of all of the vowels on his sheet of notes, he noticed a silvery-white snidget beating its tiny wings in front of the class: Colburn's Patronus, presumably.

"Is this sort of charm really the best defense we have against Dementors?" one student disbelievingly asked. "We can only slow them, we can't destroy them?"

"As I said, the Dementor essence is the negative imprint of a soul. To destroy it would require a very powerful piece of Dark Magic," Colburn explained, vanishing her Patronus with one hand as she spoke. "Destroying even just a piece of this essence, or one Dementor, wouldn't be like destroying any other Dark Creature because Dementors are one massive entity. It would be like severing an animal's limb: the severed limb would die, but the animal would continue to live."

"But that's better than just blocking the Dementor," the student stubbornly replied.

"It's never been done in recorded history, though," Colburn patiently explained. "No spell has been invented that has that ability, and it's unknown what the side effects of such a spell would be. It might forge some sort of connection between the caster and the human souls that the Dementor essence has absorbed. It might release some of the Dementor essence in a more nebulous form than that which we're accustomed to. It's unknown, and unlikely to be an issue, as the probability of someone discovering a spell that can destroy Dementors is rather slim. Now, enough theory; let's get to practicing the charm."

Most of the students who had been in the DA last year conjured their Patronuses easily, and Harry and Ron spent most of the period having their stag and dog Patronuses chase each other around the room in a playful game of tag. When the bell for the next period finally rang, the two boys were almost at the door before they noticed that Hermione was at the front of the classroom waiting to talk to the professor.

"Your Patronus was perfect," Ron started as they caught up with her. "Really, you don't have to go worrying to the professor about that."

"I wasn't going to ask about that," Hermione said, before turning to Colburn and politely asking, "Professor? I didn't hear what the homework was, so I thought I would check."

"Hermione!" Ron hissed.

Colburn drummed her fingers on the desk for a second before replying, "There's no homework today."

Hermione was balancing on the balls of her feet and added with an almost disappointed look, "No assignments? Or reading?"

"Hermione!"

Colburn gave Ron a look of amused annoyance at his hissed whispers. "No, no assignments or reading. I was planning to wait until I had met all of the classes before assigning anything."

"Great, thanks!" Ron blurted out and began nudging Hermione towards the door, as though the length they stayed was directly proportional to their probability of being assigned homework.

…

A/N: Many thanks to the magnificent kci47 for beta-reading! The next chapter will be posted within a few days (probably on Wednesday).


	4. Ch3: Hagrid's Cabin

**Chapter 3: Hagrid's Cabin**

By the end of the first week of classes, Liseli was rather pleased with herself for still being in one piece. No Manticores had made any appearances yet, and if the following weeks went as smoothly as this one then - she smiled at the thought - she would have a stable job with tenure. She supposed that sort of thinking could easily jinx everything, but she wasn't really the superstitious type to begin with. After all, the previous Defense Against the Dark Arts professors who had left after a year had had reasons for their short stay. Umbridge, for instance, had planned to only teach for a year. One of the students had mentioned something about Umbridge being driven out by hordes of angry centaurs, but that was just ridiculous.

When Liseli finally finished her thoughts and went down to dinner that day she found that the only empty seat at the professor's table was next to Snape. Considering the man's sour demeanor, she certainly didn't blame the other professors for choosing not to sit next to him.

"I see you're still here," he coldly greeted her when she took a seat.

Wondering if she should reply by describing to him how 'Hello' or 'Good Evening' were both more polite and less ambiguous when it came to greetings, she instead decided on a simple, curtly polite, "Where else would I be?"

"One never knows. I can recall several professors who didn't make it through their first week. Even more who didn't last the first month."

There was a triumphant, condescending sort of leer to his words and, uncertain how to reply, Liseli chose to not say anything at all.

"There are a number of former professors who find it to be too much – keeping track of several hundred students, disciplining them, guiding them. Really, it's devoting your life to them. You're literally living at your workplace," Snape continued, and with the pedagogical tone to his words she almost expected a blackboard with bullet points to appear behind him. "Of course those professors who choose to quit are always quickly replaced."

His words sounded vaguely threatening to her, but she couldn't pinpoint one exact phrase that could carry the full brunt of such an accusation, just his sharply icy tone that had crawled like shadows under her skin and made her competence as a professor feel subtly insulted. "That's a fascinating lecture," she finally replied, her voice sounding more like the tip of an icicle than the iceberg she had been hoping for. "But, no, I do not find this job to be 'too much.'"

Snape raised an eyebrow in a manner reminiscent of a teacher about to reprimand a student for a poorly thought out answer, but didn't add any words to accompany his condescending facial expression.

Liseli ate without another word to the Potions Master and promptly left the table upon finishing so as to avoid any further conversation. He did not seem to be quite as unpleasant with the other professors, but she couldn't be certain. Perhaps he specifically disliked her, or perhaps he was one of those old-fashioned purebloods who believed that jobs should be assigned to men on the basis of money and status.

Shaking her head, as though that would remove such distracting thoughts, she recalled her previous plan to speak with the Care of Magical Creatures professor and briskly walked towards his large hut by the Forbidden Forest. At her knock, a mild commotion sounded behind the evidently thin walls — a barking dog, the scraping of a chair, words spoken by a deep voice – and the door swung open to reveal a veritable giant of a man.

"Professor Hagrid," she started after a moment's hesitation, "I'm the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and—"

" 'Course I know who yeh are," Hagrid cheerfully interrupted her. "What can I do fer yeh?"

"You see, it's recently come to my attention that the subject material of other classes here could possibly spill into the region of my subject, and I thought it would be a good idea to learn what other professors are teaching. Just to make sure I don't accidentally teach anything that the students have already learned," she smoothly recited her intention. While she doubted that it was Care of Magical Creatures that had covered Patronus Charms, thus causing a good number of her sixth years to already be familiar with the subject, she had a few lesson plans on Dark Creatures for next week, and was hoping to avoid embarrassing herself as she had with her Patronus lesson.

"Great idea!" he heartily exclaimed. "Good to know we have a Defense against the Dark Arts professor who takes their job seriously. Come on in," the immense man opened the door wider and beckoned her towards the center of the main room, where there was a block of knotted wood that looked more like a tree trunk than the table it was used as. A kitchen was immediately attached to the main room and its cupboards were obviously overflowing and disorganized; some held cups stacked precariously upon other cups, others held flatware with food ingredients crammed into any available space, and yet others held just food, with bags of flour, sugar and tea leaves all stuffed into the same tiny corners. The kitchen counters themselves were admirably clean, even if the wood was a bit thin and worse for the wear.

"Do yeh want anythin' to drink? Tea, water…?" he amicably offered.

"No, thank you," she politely responded, taking a seat at the table while he fumbled around the kitchen, raising small clouds of ancient flour dust.

"So do yeh want to see the textbook, or the assignments I give 'em, or just want to hear about the diff'rent creatures?" he replied, joining her at the table. "They're real interestin', most of 'em, and once you figure out how to tame the textbook it's a real docile thing."

Tame the textbook? Liseli assumed that she must have somehow misheard and instead replied, "Whatever you think would be most efficient."

With the help of occasional aids, like students' exams and essays, and a textbook that did indeed have to be tamed, he described the courses he taught, his black eyes twinkling anew with each creature he described. Every once in a while his face would break out into a wide smile that split his bushy black beard and he would gesture excitedly with his humongous hands. After talking for quite some time, Hagrid finally paused for a breath and a drink of water. "So how have yer classes been?" he conversationally asked, returning from the kitchen. "Here I've been doin' all the talkin'."

"I've been asking you to do all the talking," Liseli replied with a laugh, caught off guard by the man's friendliness. "But my classes have been fine so far. Everything – well –" her exchange with Snape over dinner rose to mind, like a particularly irksome mosquito bite. "Everything has been going well since I got here."

The corners of his eyes crinkled into a smile as he gave a pleasant chuckle. "Ah, yeh hesitated. What's not goin' well? Need me to scare some misbehavin' students straight fer yeh?"

"No, nothing of the sort," she politely deferred, before taking a sip of water and adding in a forcibly casual tone, "Professor Snape is an interesting sort of fellow, isn't he?"

"Interestin' is certainly one word to describe the man. Yeh been talkin' with him?"

"Not much. Just once or twice." She opened her mouth, debating whether to add anything, before deciding that speaking ill of her new co-workers in the first week on the job probably wouldn't be very professional.

"Ah, well, I'd take anythin' he says with a grain o' salt. Yeh know he's been wantin' the Defense Against the Dark Arts position fer years?"

"Really?" Liseli blurt out, before mentally scolding herself. Even if that was a useful piece of information to understand Snape's suggestions that she ought to quit, she didn't want to seem like a gossip.

"Yep. So I think he's a bit bitter about not gettin' the position again, but fer the most part he's not as bad as he seems." Hagrid glanced up at a knocking sound on the door. The dog, who had lain silent since her own knock, started its hoarse barking again.

When Hagrid opened the door and invited Harry and two other sixth years in (what were their names again? Rob? And the girl? Harriet?), Liseli awkwardly started, "I didn't realize you were having company over. Let me just grab my notes and then I'll be out of your hair."

The students likewise looked surprised to see her, but Hagrid said, "Don't be silly, Professor Colburn, you don't have to leave; we've just barely started talking. Come on in," he added to the three students. The red-headed boy was definitely a Weasley; now if only she could remember his first name. She was quite certain it started with an R, but her mind was swarming with the half-forgotten names of several hundred other students, obscuring what the following letters of his name were. Roger? Roland? Maybe she would just avoid calling him by name.

"So Professor Colburn was tellin' me 'bout how her first week was, now I want to hear how yer first weeks back were," Hagrid cheerfully addressed the three students.

Harry glanced uncertainly at Liseli before starting, "It was fine; nothing out of the ordinary."

"Except for the boatload of reading McGonagall assigned," the red-haired boy added with a slight frown.

The Gryffindor girl replied in a brisk, matter-of-fact tone, "Really, Ron, if you didn't wait until Sunday night to do it all, it wouldn't be that much." Ah, that was the boy's name: Ron - now all Liseli had to do was actually remember it.

"I think the essay Snape assigned is worse than McGonagall's reading, personally," Harry replied with a dull smile. "It's the first week, we haven't learned anything yet, and he's already expecting us to write 24 inches of parchment."

"As long as it doesn't keep us from practicing Quidditch this weekend," Ron replied. "It's Hufflepuff we're against in a few weeks, right?"

Harry nodded in response before turning to Liseli and adding, "You should come watch; you're a Quidditch fan, right?"

Liseli questioningly turned her head slightly in response. "I am a bit, but what makes you say that?"

"Oh, I just thought since your Patronus in class on Monday was a snidget, the bird predecessor of the snitch and all," Harry shrugged.

"Harry here is the Seeker of the Gryffindor Quidditch team," Hagrid interrupted, proudly clapping a huge hand on the sixteen-year old's shoulder. "Best one there's been in years."

"That explains why you know the history of the snitch," Liseli smiled. "I never played Quidditch much — especially not as Seeker – but when I was younger, my youngest brother had a snitch we used to play with."

" 'Youngest'?" Ron spoke his first words to her. "You come from a large family, too?"

"A bit on the large side. I have four brothers, all older than me," Liseli said simply. "How many siblings do you have?"

"Six. One sister and four brothers," he promptly replied before adding in a slightly quieter voice, "And one git."

"Percy's still not talking to the family?" the bushy-haired girl asked in a concerned tone. (What was her name? Henrietta? Liseli was fairly certain the girl's name started with an H, but beyond an inseparable mixture of vowels with an occasional 'r' or 'n' thrown in she couldn't remember the rest of the letters.)

The Weasley boy shook his head in response. "It's not like we wouldn't talk to him if he came back. He's just been a git for the past year and now he doesn't want to admit it; I guess he finds it easier to just keep being a git," he finished with a sour frown.

"I can see why somebody would do that," Liseli replied slowly, before wondering if it was impolite for her to comment on one of her student's families. In an attempt to cover her possible faux pas, she shrugged her shoulders in a casual manner and added, "I don't know; I don't get along with most of my brothers very well."

"That's too bad fer yeh," Hagrid replied after a moment. "I have a half-brother that I met for the first time 'bout a year ago and it's been real nice havin' a siblin'."

Liseli gave a wry smile. "I haven't talked with most of my brothers for much longer than that. I only communicate with one of them still; the others I haven't talked to for more than a decade."

Ron raised his eyebrows. "I can't imagine what sort of state my mum and dad would be in if Percy didn't talk to them for ten years; you must really not get along with your brothers."

"There are other reasons, too, but I suppose you could say that," Liseli gave a forcibly casual shrug before pointedly steering the conversation away from her. "How did you meet your half-brother, Hagrid? Family tree suddenly spring up from nowhere?"

The three students simultaneously turned towards Hagrid with an almost worried expression on their faces, but the man seemed to not notice. With a thoughtful look, as though he was having particular difficulty finding the best choice of words, Hagrid finally replied, "Business trip to my mother's home town." He too, seemed as though he didn't want to talk about family for he abruptly asked, "So what did you do before coming to Hogwarts, Professor Colburn?"

"I was a private tutor, so a bit of traveling around England but nothing terribly far," Liseli said, and Ron opened his mouth in response before silently clamping it shut again. With the beginning of a frown on her face, Liseli abruptly asked, "Say, Hagrid, what time is it?"

" 'Round seven, I would guess."

"Oh, I didn't mean to stay that late," she apologetically replied, standing up and pushing her chair in. "I have some things I still have to do tonight. It was nice talking to all of you." With a polite nod of her head, she left.

:-:-:-:

Harry watched their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor leave Hagrid's cabin and nearly winced at Hagrid's next sentence.

"I was real sad to see that none o' yeh are takin' my class anymore," Hagrid began, a saddened expression forming on his face.

"Er – well, it's not that we don't like your class, it's just none of us really have space for it in our schedules," Harry hastily offered, hoping to avoid making him doubt his teaching skills. Perhaps this would be good timing for them to leave, also; if they had to talk with Hagrid about why they weren't taking his class for much longer, it could easily deteriorate into an awkward situation. Ron and Hermione seemed to have similar thoughts for they soon made proclamations that they ought to be working on all of their reading and essays for the weekend and delicately extracted themselves from Hagrid's cabin.

The night air had a slight nip to it, and Harry was just focusing on the feeling of the cool breeze blowing across his cheeks after the stuffy warm air of Hagrid's cabin when Ron blurted out without preamble, "Can you believe that Colburn used to be a tutor?"

The two other sixth years turned towards him as though Ron was slightly off his rocker for finding such a fact so immensely interesting. "It's not particularly surprising," Hermione responded lightly. "After all, professor positions probably attract people who already like teaching."

"Not that, I mean – oh, wait, are Muggle tutors different?"

Harry and Hermione shared a look before the latter said, "Muggle tutors help students with school subjects they're having difficulty with, but don't wizard tutors do that, too?"

"Well, I guess they might, and they teach little kids how to read and write if their parents don't want to be bothered to home school them, but that's not what tutors are known for. The only people who hire tutors are the wealthy snobs, like the Malfoys, who feel that the Hogwarts' curriculum isn't 'complete' enough for their tastes. So during the summer they hire tutors to teach their children the Dark Arts that Hogwarts won't teach them," Ron explained, a look of disgust forming on his face.

"I can't imagine that Dumbledore would hire someone who taught the Dark Arts," Hermione huffily replied, as though such an idea was as believable as Crumple-Horned Snorkacks.

"But that's all tutors are known for," he emphasized, as though it was the other two who were missing an obvious point. At that point they were reaching the Gryffindor Common Room and he added, "Come on, I'll show you; I'll ask someone else. Hey, Neville!"

The round-faced boy turned at the sound of his name. "Yeah?"

"Tutors: known for teaching the Dark Arts. True or false?"

A debating, thoughtful look appeared on the other boy's face. "Well, I mean, sometimes."

Ron looked slightly disappointed by the answer, before Harry added to Neville, "We just found out that Colburn used to be a tutor."

"I know," Neville replied succinctly. "She tutored me the summer after my first year, since Gran wasn't very happy with how my grades turned out."

Ron, if possible, looked ever more disappointed upon hearing that, and a slightly smug expression formed on Hermione's face at being proven right.

"Hey, Harry, want to play a game of Exploding Snap?" Ron said abruptly.

Harry gave a slight laugh at Ron's blatantly obvious subject change. "I don't think there could be a better way to spend a Saturday evening."

…

A/N: The :-:-:-: line break will be used to indicate a change of perspective without a change of scene. Let me know if you think that's confusing, and I'll change it. On to other things, many thanks to the fantastic kci47 for beta-reading. I'll post the next chapter within a few days (probably on Saturday).


	5. Ch4: The Three Broomsticks

**Chapter 4: The Three Broomsticks**

Of all the professors, the only one that Severus liked was McGonagall. Even then, perhaps 'like' was not the right word. Maybe 'respect' or 'tolerate'. She was reserved and, after him, was the strictest with the students. Sprout was persistently jolly, to the extent that Severus had to wonder what exactly she was growing in the greenhouse. Flitwick was far too relaxed in his dealings with the students and, as far as Severus could tell, Hagrid had only half of a brain cell. Trelawney was delusional, Sinistra had her head quite literally in the stars, Vector was too lost in her numbers to realize her social awkwardness, and Colburn — well, he was quite certain he would have been a better Defense Against the Dark Arts professor than she was, to say the least.

So, yes, McGonagall was the only professor Severus liked. Respected. Tolerated. The only professor who could walk into his office on a Thursday evening and invite him for drinks without getting blasted out.

"Now why on earth would I want to go to the Three Broomsticks on a Thursday evening when I could spend it in the dungeons grading essays instead?" he drawled, only briefly glancing up from the parchment he was reading.

"No one's forcing you," McGonagall replied smoothly, before turning to leave and adding, "We're meeting at the front entrance in fifteen minutes."

Fifteen minutes later, when he found himself standing at the front entrance, Severus stubbornly told himself he didn't know why he was there - perhaps something along the lines of not wanting to end up like Professor Vector, with her astonishing lack of basic social skills, or something along the lines of how it could be amusing to be around the other professors in small doses.

McGonagall gave one of her tight-lipped smiles as a greeting, "Imagine seeing you here, Severus."

"Likewise a pleasure," he unenthusiastically drawled, glancing at the other professors who made up the group: Sprout, Flitwick, Hagrid and Colburn. Perhaps _very_ small doses.

They had just started walking towards Hogsmeade when Colburn approached him and stated, "I have actually been intending to ask you something." He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and, after a moment, she continued. "I have been asking the other professors about their courses, to ensure I don't unintentionally cover topics from their courses in mine."

Somewhat admirable of her, not that he would ever admit that. "My class is Potions. The title is rather self-explanatory," he sneered instead.

"I wasn't planning on telling my students to pull out their cauldrons anytime soon," she frowned. "I wanted to know whether you discuss potions as they apply to antidotes for curses, and potions with Dark Magic applications."

"If you define Dark Magic as that which harms another, then any potion can be Dark Magic if you have enough of it. What determines a poison is amount, not identity."

"Fair point," she grudgingly said. "I hope you understand what I actually meant, though."

"Yes, Colburn, I teach my students the purposes of the potions they brew. And yes, I teach them about important potions which are too dangerous for them to brew themselves. I would consider myself an incompetent professor if I did not," he said impatiently.

"Thank you, that's all I wanted to know," she spoke in a curtly polite tone.

After a few moments of silence, Severus spoke again, "You would do well to teach your advanced students about Inferi. I imagine they will play a role in the Second War."

"I don't need help with my lesson plans," she continued in the same curtly polite tone before insincerely adding, "But thank you for the suggestion."

"Suit yourself," he coolly replied.

Severus noticed Colburn looking at the other four professors who, walking slightly in front of them, appeared to be engaged in conversation. Glancing back at Severus, she seemed almost disappointed at who her conversation partner was. "There's a Quidditch game this weekend. Slytherin versus Ravenclaw," she said in a slightly friendlier tone.

"So I've heard."

"Who do you think is going to win? I haven't seen the teams play since back when I was a student myself."

"Likely Slytherin," Severus replied curtly. "Ravenclaw plays too defensively to win."

She gave a slight smile. "I remember Ravenclaw played defensively even when I was a student. Well, when you were a student, too, I suppose. Good to know things haven't changed."

"I didn't know you used to play Quidditch," Severus drawled uninterestedly. This small talk was going to quickly deplete whatever social skills Severus prided himself on having. Maybe being like Vector wouldn't be so bad after all.

"No, I didn't. Some of my brothers used to, though."

"Ah." Was he supposed to have a longer response than that? "The only Colburn I remember was Head Boy." Manipulative and easily-manipulated, that was how he remembered Head Boy Colburn. Styled himself after Slughorn like that.

When they finally arrived at The Three Broomsticks, their pub of choice, there was almost no other customers. The few people there - a person wearing a hooded robe, a wizard with short light-brown hair, and a witch with red fingernail polish - were all sipping drinks at the bar.

"It's so empty nowadays," Flitwick sighed as they took their seats.

"It's the war," Sprout immediately added, glancing around the room once more. "People are afraid to go out anymore, and can you blame them?"

Severus frowned and remained silent. He ate, drank, breathed war nowadays - did they really have to choose it as a topic of conversation? Four of the other professors were leaned forward, intently focusing on the conversation with fear apparent in their eyes as they discussed the war. Only Colburn was leaning back in her seat, her lips pursed as though she, too, would rather be talking about something else.

"There could be an attack anytime, anywhere," Flitwick nodded in agreement with Sprout.

"Excep' Hogwarts," Hagrid jumped in. "Hogwarts is still safe."

"We can hope," McGonagall corrected.

Colburn was disinterestedly glancing around the room now, seemingly hoping for a topic change, and for a second, Severus nearly felt a sense of kinship with her. He quickly shook any such thoughts from his head, though, and returned to observing the other professors.

"Do you remember the First War?" Sprout pushed. "When people were afraid of their own friends, their own family, because you couldn't know who might be under the Imperius curse? Who was a Death Eater?"

Severus vaguely considered reminding them that he was a Death Eater just so he could watch their reactions.

"The courts were filled with dozens of cases like that after the war," McGonagall added with a slightly resigned sigh. "The logistics of telling apart who was and wasn't under the Imperius curse was a nightmare."

The other professors morosely nodded, except Colburn who rather seemed as though she had entirely stopped listening to the conversation. Instead, she was glancing over her shoulder nearly every half-minute in the direction of the bar. Curious behavior, Severus thought.

"What do you think, Colburn?" Severus abruptly stated, allowing his gaze to quickly survey the bar while he spoke. The same three people were sitting at the bar as when they had come in, but Severus noticed the man with light-brown hair had suddenly looked towards their table at his words.

"I — what?" Colburn's attention jerked back to the conversation. "Well, uh, you know…" she trailed off, waving one of her hands in a vague gesture. Within a few seconds it was clear she had stopped listening again, returning to looking over her shoulder.

"I know, it's horrible," Sprout nodded sympathetically.

"And of course we don't know how, when — or even if! — this war will end," Flitwick squeaked.

"Well I doubt it's going to end exactly like the first did," McGonagall stated briefly. "The Killing Curse backfiring on an unarmed baby. Unprecedented."

"An' the destruction that single curse caused, unbelievable," Hagrid added. "I was there, and I tell yeh, the whole house — destroyed."

Severus felt an awful sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He didn't like discussing war as it was, but to bring up Lily's death in small talk —

"James and Lily Potter, what a tragedy," Flitwick shook his head. Severus gritted his teeth as Flitwick sadly continued, "Of course there are so many casualties in war that they all start to blur together."

How dare they speak of Lily as though she was merely one of dozens? Severus clenched his fists underneath the table at the thought.

"Actually, I just remembered something I have to do back at Hogwarts," Colburn abruptly stood up, apparently unaware of the conversation's sober tone. "I'm going to walk back now. Thank you for inviting me, Hagrid."

"I also have duties to take care of," Severus heard himself say as he stood up, and left for the door. Merlin, he didn't want to hear them talk about Lily, they had no right to talk about Lily —

"I didn't know I needed accompaniment to walk back to Hogwarts," Colburn interrupted his thoughts, an edge to her voice as they both left the Three Broomsticks.

"I'm not accompanying you back," he stated with the beginning of a sneer. "I wished to leave and the fact that you left at the same time is irrelevant."

"Good."

In an attempt to turn his thoughts away from the war, away from Lily and Potter and the Dark Lord and Dumbledore, Severus wondered if provoking Colburn could provide enough of a distraction. "Merlin, Colburn, you look like you were running from a ghost."

"I —" She opened her mouth before snapping it shut again and adding in a more controlled tone, "What makes you say that?"

He smirked slightly at her reaction; this could turn out to be more amusing than he had thought it would be. "Clearly there was someone at the bar who was drawing your attention — I'm surprised you don't have a neck crick from looking that direction."

"I thought I saw someone I recognized. That's all."

"Someone who makes you flee the room?"

Again she opened her mouth before hesitating a second and hastily stating, "I wasn't _fleeing_. But, yes, well, anyway, it wasn't him. I'm quite sure."

"Are you now? Because when I said your name someone at the bar turned and looked towards you." Well, he had looked towards the table at least. Severus hadn't noticed if the wizard looked at her specifically.

She shot a quick, warily disbelieving glance towards Severus. "Really?" she asked after a second.

"Tall, thin man; light-brown hair," he described in a falsely disinterested tone.

A mildly alarmed look flashed across her face, before a forcefully closed look drew itself over her features. "Coincidence, I'm sure," she stated haughtily. Upon reaching Hogwarts, they promptly separated paths, and Severus was left with the thought that even if he didn't like Colburn, at least she hadn't been gossiping about the war. That was already more than he could say for the other professors.

:-:-:-:

Back at her quarters, Liseli found her thoughts unwillingly drift towards the Three Broomsticks and the identity of the man at the bar. Just seeing the man had been a jarring reminder of her past wrongs, and it left her uneasily pacing the confines of her quarters. It probably wasn't him, she tried to assure herself. After all, she hadn't been able to fully see the man's face from where she was sitting, and by sheer probability the man was likely to be a complete stranger. And yet…was Snape telling the truth? Had the man at the bar really reacted to her name?

Deciding that work would be the best distraction, she gathered her students' homework assignments from her quarters and set off for her office. Passing McGonagall in the hallways, it struck her that she had spent enough time thinking for the other professors to have already returned from Hogsmeade, and she shook her head to clear away any last non-work-related thoughts. Upon entering her office, though, she nearly dropped the stack of assignments. Reclining on the back two legs of her chair, twirling a wand between his fingers, was the man from the Three Broomsticks. His gaunt face remained expressionless as his light blue eyes met hers, and the only sound in the room was the sound of his wand cutting the air as he twirled it.

"I see you're out of Azkaban," Liseli finally greeted him.

…

A/N: Many thanks to the fantabulous kci47 for beta-reading! Next update should come in a couple of days, probably on Wednesday.

I would love to hear your thoughts on the story so far, especially if you've put the story on story alert or favorited it.


	6. Ch5: The Prisoner

Previously in Chapter 4: _Deciding that work would be the best distraction, Liseli gathered her students' homework assignments from her quarters and set off for her office. Upon entering her office, though, she nearly dropped the stack of assignments. Reclining on the back two legs of her chair, twirling a wand between his fingers, was the man from the Three Broomsticks. His gaunt face remained expressionless as his light blue eyes met hers, and the only sound in the room was the sound of his wand cutting the air as he twirled it._

"_I see you're out of Azkaban," Liseli finally greeted him. _

**Chapter 5: The Prisoner**

The man sitting in Liseli's office continued twirling his wand. "You're right, Liseli," he said blankly. "I am out of Azkaban."

For a moment, Liseli wondered if she could simply turn on her heel and leave the office without another word. Just seeing him was a reminder of the last time she had seen him, years and years ago, and it was enough to make her feel a twinge of guilt.

"Apparently our parents passed away recently," he spoke again after a moment, and Liseli thought his voice was a hoarse imitation of what it had been many years ago.

"Our parents passed away a few years ago, Tarazet. Old age."

For a second Tarazet stopped twirling his wand between his fingers. "I didn't know. I've been in Azkaban for the past fifteen years, in case you forgot."

Forgot? Of course she hadn't forgotten his prison sentence. The exact date of his release from Azkaban was buried somewhere in her belongings, but even without tracking the years of his sentence some clock in her had rung with the dying days of summer.

"Evidently our parents left everything to Deneb in their will," Tarazet flatly continued.

"Well, not exactly," Liseli hesitatingly corrected. "Deneb's the middle child after all, not the heir. They left everything to Seginus, since he's the eldest child. It's only because he's still in Azkaban that it all went to Deneb."

A nearly imperceptible crease formed on Tarazet's forehead, and he began spinning his wand again. "Speaking of Deneb, I saw him today."

"Our brother Deneb?" Liseli's face said with a surprised frown; she was quite certain that Deneb had disowned Tarazet after his arrest.

"Do you know any other Denebs? As I was saying, I saw Deneb today. He said you were working for Dumbledore," Tarazet continued, his impersonal tone giving way to a slightly sharper edge.

Liseli uncomfortably shifted her weight and glanced around her office. "And?"

He shifted his gaze away from Liseli, fixating on the twirling of his wand. "And I wanted to know if it was true."

"Tarazet, you're in my office, at Hogwarts. I would think it's obvious I'm working for Dumbledore."

A sour expression formed on his face. "I was hoping there might be some other explanation for why you were at Hogwarts."

"It's just a job," she retorted.

"A job working for the man responsible for my prison sentence!"

"You were going to be sentenced even without Dumbledore's input," she snapped.

"Not for _fifteen_ years." Tarazet turned to unflinchingly look her in the eyes, and she awkwardly shifted her gaze to a spot of wall just over his shoulder. "The other members of the Wizengamot would have been content with a shorter sentence. Only Dumbledore argued that my sentence should be life in Azkaban."

"Well, if you hadn't let yourself get caught, then none of this would have happened," she spluttered in response.

Tarazet incredulously raised his eyebrows. "So this is _my _fault?"

"You knew what you were doing," Liseli said, gaining more conviction as she continued. "You knew you were breaking the law — "

"I wasn't hurting anyone. I certainly didn't deserve life, and if Dumbledore —"

"Speaking of Dumbledore, I can't imagine the Headmaster would be pleased if he knew you were at Hogwarts," Liseli frowned. It hadn't occurred to her when she first saw Tarazet, but she was beginning to feel a creeping unease for publically associating with a former convict. What if it endangered her job? She continued in an abruptly casual tone, "Well, you know I'm always happy to see you," – _Except this time_, she mentally added – "but I have grading I should be doing."

"Fine. So that's how it is," he snapped, standing to leave. "Should I even ask about what happened before my Azkaban sentence?"

Liseli immediately felt another twinge of guilt. She didn't want to discuss those long ago events, even if she knew that at some point it would be unavoidable. After a few moments of struggling to phrase her thoughts, she bowed to the easiest course of action. "I think you should leave, Tarazet," she repeated with more conviction than she felt.

"I deserve an explanation, Liseli," he said angrily. When she didn't reply, he gave an aggravated hiss before leaving and slamming the office door shut behind him.

Liseli stared at the closed door for a moment, before uneasily searching for a distraction from their conversation. Turning to the stack of student assignments she had brought with her to her office, she wearily pulled out a quill and inkwell to begin grading them. She only managed to grade one assignment, though, before she gave a groan and set her bottle of red ink back down. She had too many thoughts going through her mind to be able to concentrate, and it wouldn't be fair to her students if she graded haphazardly because of that. Standing from her desk, she resolved to take a brief walk around the castle before returning to work; perhaps that would clear her head.

Most of the corridors were nearly empty of people and, pausing occasionally to glance out the windows at the autumn landscape, she found herself wandering through several separate floors. The number of students passing her was slowly increasing, though, and she realized that her feet had carried her to the Great Hall. Although most of the castle's residents had already eaten, a smaller number of stragglers were still finishing dinner and she smiled to herself as she looked across the Great Hall at her students. She really did like teaching at Hogwarts and, feeling a bit more cheerful, she began the walk back to her office.

"So rude to your guests, Colburn." She heard Snape's mockingly reproving voice behind her and whipped her head in his direction, noticing that he seemed to be on his way from the Great Hall.

With narrowed eyes, she calmly replied, "You'll have to enlighten me as to what you mean, Snape."

His eyes had a maliciously amused glint to them as he spoke. "Why, if I heard correctly, you just threw your brother out of Hogwarts. That's not particularly polite, is it? Imagine the example you're setting for the students," he clucked his tongue reprovingly.

Liseli's face gained a pink tinge, and she sourly replied, "It's not polite to eavesdrop, Snape. 'Imagine the example you're setting for the students.'"

"I simply happened to be walking past your office at the time. It is out of my control that your office is next to one of Hogwarts' central staircases. It is not generally in my habits to plug my ears when walking."

"That doesn't —"

Liseli's words were cut off by a loud bang from the neighboring corridor followed by the sound of several voices. Both she and Snape shared a frown before quickly walking to sound of the commotion, where a small group of students had gathered around what looked like the beginnings of an impromptu duel.

"I'm warning you to watch it, Potter," Draco's voice rung through the corridor.

"Funny, because for some reason I'm not worried," Harry stated, and as Liseli came closer she could see that Draco had suddenly raised his wand.

"_Protego!_"

A barrier suddenly appeared between the two boys and the spell from Draco's wand reflected off it into one of the stone walls, leaving a slight chip.

"No dueling in the corridors!" Liseli interrupted, dissipating her shield charm with a wave of her wand once she had gotten the boys' attention. "You're sixth years. You ought to know better."

"Draco, a word if I could," Snape dangerously cut in, indicating for the blond-haired boy to follow him away from the small number of students gathered.

With a sneer towards Harry and Hermione, who were both standing slightly back, Draco pointedly pocketed his wand and with a sardonic nod towards Harry stated, "Potter," before adding in a quieter voice, "Mudblood."

"Watch your mouth, Draco," Liseli scolded him, but he had started walking down the corridor with Snape before she could decide how many House points to remove. Merlin, what was Snape doing, taking one student from a broken up fight, without any apparent punishment? Was he going to scold Draco individually, and then expect that she would deal with Harry? But how could the two students receive equal punishments if she didn't know what sort of punishment Draco was getting? She felt a burst of irritation with Snape and vaguely wondered if he was trying to discreetly favor Draco in any school conflicts.

"Alright, move along!" Liseli announced towards the students expectantly milling around the hallway to see what else would happen. She turned towards Harry and added more quietly, "I expect better from you. I won't take off any house points this time, but I won't be so generous in the future."

Harry replied with a surprised but grateful "Thank you", but he was still glaring at the retreating forms of Draco and Snape by the time Liseli turned and continued on her way. What had she been planning to do? Ah, right, grading. Perfect way to spend a Thursday evening.

…

A/N: Sorry this chapter ended up on the short side; it started out quite a bit longer, but then somehow in the drafting process it shrunk considerably, and I assumed you would prefer to read a short, better chapter than a long, worse chapter. Next chapter will be longer, though.

Also, many thanks to the amazing kci47 for beta-reading! I should be able to post the next chapter on Saturday or Sunday; I missed my last planned update due to a combination of pneumonia and traveling, but I should be able to stick to the planned update day this time.


	7. Ch6: Hogwarts' Security

_Previously in Chapter 5: _Liseli and Tarazet argued in her office at Hogwarts, after which Tarazet left. Soon afterwards, Liseli and Severus came across Draco and Harry about to duel and broke up their fight. Liseli was left to reprimand Harry while Severus disappeared with Draco.

**Chapter 6: Hogwarts' Security**

"Draco," Severus coldly started once he had led him away from his duel with Potter. "I would expect more from you than to be engaging in petty school-boy squabbles."

"Potter sent my father to Azkaban," Draco viciously replied.

"That is irrelevant!" Severus roared in response. "You must learn to control your outbursts of emotion."

"Yeah, irrelevant, I suppose that's what you think of my father," the boy spat in response. "Nothing wrong with him sitting in a cell in Azkaban. Of course I suppose it makes your job easier, because now you're probably, what, the second-highest ranking Death Eater? Or is it first?"

"You will speak to me with respect," he replied dangerously, and he watched with satisfaction as the anger etched on Draco's face became more controlled. Merlin, he may have been friends with Lucius and Narcissa for nearly decades by this point, but that didn't make Draco's behavior any less infuriating. "Now, I thought I would also take advantage of this opportunity to ask how things are coming along with the, ah, project."

Draco immediately stopped meeting his eyes and instead looked at the bridge of Severus's nose, as though Severus would not notice the difference. "Nothing. No ideas. No plans," Draco stated in an attempt at a bland tone, but the quiver to his voice gave him away.

The boy had been resolute in stating he had no ideas for how he was going to kill Dumbledore, but it was clear that whatever his thoughts were he simply wasn't sharing. Snape had tried previously to extract more information from Draco, but it was beginning to seem that the best plan would be to avoid bringing the subject up for a few weeks and see if that altered the boy's defenses. "Fine. You may leave."

Severus drummed his fingers against each other as he watched Draco leave, and he attempted to recall what he had been planning to do before the distraction. _Distraction_, he scoffed to himself. Yes, worrying about how he was likely going to have to murder the Headmaster was a "distraction."

Hogwarts' security-that was what he had been thinking about. That and brewing antidotes for tomorrow's classes, but the former struck him as more important. He had been planning to ask Colburn if she knew how her "guest" had gained access to Hogwarts, but with the duel between Potter and Draco he had lost sight of her. He didn't particularly fancy tracking her down again, and he decided to instead review the security measures with McGonagall. McGonagall was, after all, officially responsible for the security wards.

Upon arriving at McGonagall's office, he greeted her by saying, "I believe it may be wise to increase Hogwarts' security."

McGonagall raised her eyebrows before silencing the door. "Is there a plan to infiltrate Hogwarts?"

"Nothing specific, besides the Dark Lord's general desire to see both Dumbledore and Potter dead," he said lightly. McGonagall frowned slightly, as though Potter's death was an inappropriate topic of conversation. "I was referring to the fact that I saw a non-student walking the halls of Hogwarts."

She looked towards the door, as though expecting to see someone there. "Now? Where?"

"Not now. Earlier this evening, and I followed him until he was off grounds. But I believe it is rather important we determine how he got into Hogwarts, because it would appear that we may have a lapse in security."

McGonagall's frown deepened. "Who was the person you saw? The gates are supposed to be enchanted against people with Dark Magic objects or malicious intentions. If the charm doesn't work, though, that is certainly a cause for immediate concern."

"I don't know who he was, but I believe it matters more how he could have gotten by the gates when they are supposed to open only to professors." After a second, he added, "Although from one of his comments, I believe he is one of Colburn's siblings." Severus held to the belief that he hadn't been eavesdropping on their conversation per se. He had simply been walking by Colburn's office at the time, and after years of spying it had become second-nature to carefully listen to everything.

A look of recognition appeared on McGonagall's face. "You mean Tarazet Colburn?"

"I believe I just stated that I didn't know his name," he replied in a slightly annoyed tone.

"I let Tarazet in. He talked to me at the Three Broomsticks after you and Liseli left. He said he was supposed to meet Liseli there, but they must have missed each other."

"And you believed him?" As far as Severus was concerned, Gryffindors were far too trusting,

An annoyed expression crossed her face at his tone, and she replied, "I remembered him from when he was a student—he was one of my best Transfiguration students—"

"Oh, well, in _that_ case—"

"My point," she continued, "is that I knew who he was, and I remembered that he and Liseli were close when they were students. I didn't exactly leave him to wander Hogwarts' halls, either. I waited until I saw Liseli coming to her office, and then I left."

"Maybe so, but it defeats the purposes of the gates if someone only has to ask and they're let in," he said, his voice restrained from its highest level of scathing only by the fact that McGonagall was a more senior professor than he was. "If Colburn wished to meet with him—which I gather she didn't—they should have owled each other and set up a meeting time and location."

"That is a matter you are welcome to take up with Colburn herself," she stated in a business-like tone. "As it is, Tarazet informed me he had been released from Azkaban only earlier that day and wanted to see his sister. I find that to be a perfectly reasonable request and, given that I am more than capable of dueling a single wizard if necessary, I believed allowing him into Hogwarts for a few hours to be a perfectly safe exception."

"Wait—_Azkaban_?"

McGonagall seemed unperturbed. "It was in the newspapers years ago. He committed a white-collar crime."

"A what?"

"Muggle terms can come in handy sometimes, Severus," she said, her thin lips curling into a small smile. "A white-collar crime is a crime that's not violent—things like embezzlement. Muggle court systems give such crimes different sentences than other types of crimes. I have always thought that was only because the people being tried are seen as more refined than common criminals, though."

"If being refined is all it takes to lighten a prison sentence, then remind me to stick my pinky finger out next time I drink tea—maybe it'll keep me from going to Azkaban when I'm next tried for being a Death Eater," Severus said sarcastically.

"The Ministry won't try you again," McGongall confidently stated as she began to shuffle some papers to the side of her desk. "You can't be tried for the same crime twice."

"That is assuming the Ministry chooses to follow its own laws. They have been known to neglect them during wartime." Severus stood to leave and added, "At least it appears that Hogwarts' gates are secure. Relatively."

"Yes, quite, Severus. You needn't worry," she replied with a slight smile.

He had nearly left the office when he heard Minerva's voice behind him. "He really was an excellent Transfiguration student, though. When he graduated I told him it would be a shame if he didn't pursue his skill in Transfiguration." She sighed and seemed to be looking at some indeterminate point in the distance. "I never imagined he would use Transfiguration to counterfeit galleons. He must have still been a teenager when he was sent to Azkaban."

"Charming. I should get to preparing tomorrow's lesson plans, though. Good day, Minerva." With a nod, Severus left her office and began trying to recall what exactly his lesson plans for tomorrow were.

After a moment of reflection he recalled the class schedule showing a group of first years in the morning, followed by sixth year NEWT students and finally fifth year OWL students in the late afternoon. He frowned at the thought of the lesson for his NEWT students: a pop-quiz on creating a list of potions instructions from scratch and then brewing that potion. Students rarely brewed the potion correctly and, as he had to brew antidotes for all possible variations the students might make, the lesson required a great deal of set-up on his part.

After deciding which variations of the antidote would be necessary to have on hand, he set up four cauldrons. It would be the same ingredient base for all four antidotes, and it was only near the end of the brewing that they would began to differ from each other in ingredients or boiling time. He would make another four, or maybe eight, variations after these. It was only after he started bringing the thick blue potions to a boil that it occurred to him he should probably brew the antidote variant for in case any of the students actually brewed the potion successfully. Somehow he doubted they would, though.

The sound of a knock broke his concentration as he looked up to notice Colburn standing in the doorway, a mildly peeved look on her face. "McGonagall was just speaking with me," she stated by way of greeting. "She said you were concerned about Hogwarts' security. I thought I would inform you that next time you're worried about security in relation to me, I would appreciate it if you spoke with me directly."

Severus looked down at the first of the four potions again; he had to make sure the bubbles didn't exceed a centimeter and a half in diameter. "I was talking with Minerva about security as a whole; your brother was just one example of a flagrant security violation. I happen to know your brother did not cause harm to any of the students because I personally followed him until he left Hogwarts." He paused to stir the second cauldron and add diced wormwood to the third cauldron. "Although I remind you, Colburn, that escorting visitors from the castle is not my responsibility, but the responsibility of whoever is hosting them."

A pink tinge appeared to her cheeks, and she said, "I knew my brother was not a danger to anyone in the castle."

"I would have thought your reasoning had more to do with how you appeared to not want to see him." He looked at her as he spoke and noticed that she uncomfortably shifted her weight.

"Admittedly, that may have colored my decision," she lightly replied.

One eye on the cauldron, one eye on her reaction, he continued speaking in a would-be casual tone, "McGonagall also told me that he is a former Azkaban inmate."

A sour expression formed on her face. "I assure you that—"

"And according to McGonagall you're also friends with him."

The pink tinge to her face deepened. "I assure you that Tarazet was of no danger to the castle's residents. Anything else is irrelevant but, for your information, I make a point to not associate with criminals." She abruptly shifted the topic of conversation by saying, "Should I point out there are not three other people with you in the room to tend your other three cauldrons?"

"It's a simple potion. I am more than capable of tending four cauldrons myself," he said, mildly annoyed that she was turning the conversation back towards him. He turned his attention towards one of the cauldrons that was bubbling slightly too fast, and vaguely thought that if she wasn't distracting him with conversation he would have been even more capable of dealing with four cauldrons at once.

"Well, let me know if you need any help," she unenthusiastically offered.

As though Colburn could help _him_ with potions. He certainly didn't know if she had any qualifications to be brewing potions that the students might be swallowing and, anyway, he was quite certain that he was the most proficient potion brewer at this school. To insinuate otherwise was an insult to the skills he had spent decades practicing, and he retorted, "These are antidotes, for when the students botch their potions. If the antidotes are also incorrectly brewed, it defeats the purpose."

The look of annoyance on her face deepened. "Suit yourself. I was only trying to be helpful."

"I have no reason to trust your potion-making skills, Colburn," he harshly replied.

"Suit yourself," she coldly repeated. "I have more important things to concern myself with right now, so I will leave you to your potions."

He looked up as her light brown braid disappeared from sight. Colburn could be quite aggravating at times, he decided. Even if it was occasionally amusing to provoke her, she never reacted as strongly as some people, and she had an annoying habit of cutting off his provocation. It was almost as if she realized what he was doing, and it made her far too clever to be a source of continual amusement for Severus.

Severus was only distracted from his thoughts when a sizzling sound caught his attention, and he looked back down at his cauldrons—Merlin, the second cauldron was boiling over! With a wave of his wand and an annoyed sigh, he vanished the potion and began preparing a fresh batch. It was going to be a long night.

…

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorited or story alerted so far! I always love to hear from readers, even if it's just in a two-word review. Also, the next update should come in about a week, on next Saturday or Sunday.

Many thanks to kci47 for beta-reading!


	8. Ch7: Inattention and Potions

_Previously in Chapter 6:_ Severus discussed with McGonagall how Liseil's brother Tarazet had gained access to Hogwarts and later continued the discussion with Liseli while he was brewing antidotes for his class lesson the next day.

**Chapter 7: Inattention and Potions**

"Today," Severus announced to his students, "We will be having a pop quiz."

For a second the horrified looks on the students' faces prevented them from exchanging any words. Severus found it nearly amusing, but a second later hushed whispers began racing across the classroom.

"That's not fair!"

"I hope it's on chapter three."

"Quick, summarize the last chapter for me!"

Severus silenced the class again with his next words. "You will brew a potion that produces lethargy and inattention in your partner, who will sample the potion at the end of the class period. This is a test of not only your brewing skills, but also of your understanding, for you will have to create the instructions for brewing the potion yourself. You may begin."

A number of the students seemed to be shocked into immobility, while others dived into their book bags, and a few walked towards the potion ingredients cupboard, looking at potential ingredients with a lost expression on their faces.

"When brewing a potion it is generally wiser to start with the instructions, unless you wish to poison your partner," he icily told Ernie Macmillian, who was hopelessly looking between a bottle of bat spleen and a bottle of Bubotuber pus. "While you are welcome to poison your partner if you wish, I remind you that it will hurt your grade."

Macmillian gave a nervous gulp before sitting back down and staring at his cauldron.

Severus repressed an annoyed sigh as he gazed across the classroom. If the expressions on the students' faces were any hint he should have prepared a dozen more antidote variations than he had. "And be certain you are writing down the instructions you use," he abruptly announced. If someone brewed a horribly incorrect potion he would have to know exactly how they had brewed it in order to prepare an antidote. "The instructions and your justification for each of the steps will also be a part of you grade for this quiz."

The class's groan was quickly silenced by the dangerous look to his eyes, and he positioned himself closer to the class's Gryffindors—Potter, Granger, and Weasley—before he continued speaking. "I also remind you that any form of cheating, be it whispering answers, scrawling recommendations, or simply looking at any one ingredient too long will not be tolerated."

The Gryffindors didn't noticeably react to his indirect accusation, and with a slight sneer he moved back towards the front of the classroom. Just the fact that Potter and Weasley had even made it into his NEWT level course had made him increasingly suspicious of just how much Granger helped the two boys. He was quite certain Potter did not have the patience or skills to succeed in Potions otherwise.

Really, the class had written an essay only two weeks ago on how to create a drowsiness potion from scratch; all they had to do was modify it slightly to produce the potion they were now attempting to brew, but it seemed that precious few of the students realized that. He had even returned the essays a full week ago with copious corrections so that they could study for this pop quiz, yet he had to wonder if they had even looked at their returned essays or simply left them in crumpled balls at the bottom of their book bags.

By the end of the class period, he was beginning to strongly suspect the latter.

"You used Bulbadox juice as the main ingredient? And I thought Ravenclaws were supposed to be smart," he addressed a pale-looking MacDougal. "Bulbadox juice can't even pass the blood-brain barrier, how would you expect it to have any effect? There is no need for your partner to sample this. I can guarantee it will not work." With a wave of his wand he emptied the cauldron and moved onto the next students' potion.

By the time he had proceeded three-quarters of the way down the row, he heard Potter's impertinent voice from the end of the row, "You know, _sir_, we have a test in Defense Against the Dark Arts next period that your class is spilling over into."

Potter had the nerve to be impudent when he had been attempting to give the class a few more minutes to finish their potions? "If you are late to your next class, take it up with that professor. We have not yet finished our lesson and you will not leave until we are done. Valiant attempt to avoid my grading your potion, though, Potter," Severus sneered and a look of anger appeared on the boy's face. He found it particularly satisfying to inform Potter soon afterwards that his potion was of poor enough quality to warrant vanishing without sampling. Perhaps Granger had not been helping after all.

"For those of you whose potions I have not vanished, you may now give them to your partners to sample. For those of you whose potions I have vanished, you may leave. And do dedicate those few extra minutes to studying or else you will likely fail the entire class, and not just this one quiz." Potter gave him a particularly nasty look when he left the classroom, and Severus ignored it as he smoothly fibbed to the class, "The potion will likely take a few minutes to take effect. I will tell you then how I will test the potion's effectiveness. Meanwhile, Brocklehurst, tell me one of the uses Horklump juice."

The Ravenclaw girl snapped her head towards the professor before hurriedly stating, "It's used in Wiggenwald Potion, which can awaken people from an induced sleep."

"Weasley, tell me the other ingredients in Wiggenwald Potion." The red-haired boy was staring off into space, apparently oblivious to his name being called. "Weasley."

Granger sharply elbowed the boy, causing him to suddenly sit up and state, "What?"

"Weasley, do you not know your name?" Severus drawled, hiding his amusement. It seemed that the boy had already stopped paying attention again, and Severus continued, "Never mind. Granger, what are the other ingredients of Wiggenwald Potion?"

"Well, there's…Chizpurfle fangs…and Flobberworm mucus…and salamander blood…" she was speaking slowly, but the surprised and frustrated look on her face suggested she was attempting to answer more quickly but found it difficult.

"That's enough. Zabini, finish her response."

Once he finished going around the room he pulled the antidotes from his cabinet and set them out on his desk. "The questions I just asked all of you were to test whether your partner successfully brewed their potion. As you know, the potion was meant to induce lethargy and inattention, and you all swallowed one dose of your partner's potion. Therefore, if your partner answered my questions slowly or demonstrated a lack of attention to their name being called, that demonstrates you brewed your potion correctly. If your partner answered my questions quickly, that demonstrates you brewed your potion incorrectly, and you will receive a failing grade. Weasley, Granger, Zabini, Parkinson and Patil—your partners brewed the potion correctly. Come up to take an antidote."

In the slight commotion of moving students, Brocklehurst whispered to her partner, "I'm so sorry, I didn't know those questions were the test of the whether the potion was working! I would have pretended I wasn't paying attention—"

"There is a reason I did that test the way I did," Severus sharply stated as he vanished Brocklehurst's potion from her cauldron, and she gave a slight squeak of surprise at being overheard. "Class is dismissed. Fifth years, file in!" he stated in a louder voice to the students impatiently waiting outside of the door.

* * *

><p>By the time Snape appeared in the Great Hall for dinner, Liseli was thoroughly cross with him. "Your NEWT students told me about their Potions lesson today," she curtly addressed Snape as he sat down.<p>

"Lamenting the unfairness of a quiz, I'm sure."

"Lamenting that they arrived nearly a half-hour late for my test because of your class," Liseli irritably replied.

"I felt it necessary to give them sufficient time to complete their quiz," he explained, looking rather more interested in the plates of food laid out than in the conversation.

"That time was not yours to give, Snape," she stated. "My class is just as legitimate of a class as yours, and I'll thank you to respect that."

"When you have been teaching at Hogwarts for longer a month, perhaps then I will find the time to remember your class." Liseli felt a burst of anger towards him. How dare he belittle her teaching like that? She was strongly reminded of those parents she had tutored for, who had assumed she was less qualified than any of the male tutors they might have hired.

Her thoughts instinctively leapt to a desire to prove herself, but she instead took a deep breath and began viciously stabbing the peas on her plate. "Speaking of incompetent, several of my late NEWT students were rather lethargic and inattentive today. Coincidentally, they told me that was the type of potion they had sampled in your class," Liseli said in a forcibly casual tone. She continued with a saccharine smile, "They said you had given them an antidote, but apparently it was brewed incorrectly."

It was now Snape's turn to look livid. "I don't appreciate such accusations, Colburn. And even if I did make any slight mistakes with the antidotes—which I assure you I did not-it would have been because _you_ were distracting me while I was brewing the antidotes."

"You chose to talk to me. The students are fine now, though. I dismissed them early to go to Madam Pomfrey for a properly brewed antidote." The look on Snape's face was becoming even more furious at such an insult, and she decided to choose that moment to leave. "I have a letter to go write, but enjoy your meal." With a smirk she walked in the direction of her quarters.

Liseli did have a letter to write, although when she received the owl this morning she had been planning to put it off for another day or two. She unrolled the smooth piece of parchment and re-read the letter.

_Dear Liseli,_

_I hope you are doing well. I wanted to formally offer my congratulations to you on your new job. Hogwarts professor would appear to be a very prestigious position, and I'm sure that with the start of the Second War it's particularly advantageous to be at Hogwarts now—although one must be careful in case the tide changes. Would you like to come over for a congratulatory dinner sometime, say, this Saturday at 6 pm? Marie-Ange always loves company and I'm sure Laurent and Adelaide would be happy to see their aunt again. Let me know by owl._

_Looking forward to seeing you again,_

_Deneb_

She wasn't quite sure why her brother Deneb had chosen to write her; Liseli had known him long enough to know that his stated reason could not be the only reason. He didn't congratulate her every time she found a new job and, because they had few interests in common, they didn't normally regularly correspond. No, his reason for contacting her likely had to do with the two words that leapt out at her from the letter: "prestigious" and "advantageous", and it likely involved him wanting to use her as a contact at Hogwarts for however he thought it might benefit his career.

On the one hand, she did not particularly relish the idea of spending her Saturday night being prodded by Deneb to help him expand his professional acquaintances, regardless of how important he thought a diverse network of contacts was for the sake of career advancement. On the other hand, she had not seen him for some time, and a thought was tickling the back of her mind: Deneb had gone to visit Tarazet, even though he had publically disowned their brother. Deneb did almost everything out of an underlying self-interest, something that annoyed her to no end, but given that Tarazet was a convicted criminal, Tarazet was of no use to Deneb. Why, then, had he gone to see Tarazet?

Carefully dipping her quill in its inkwell, she set its point on the piece of parchment and began tracing the words:

_Dear Deneb,_

_Thank you for the invitation. I have plans this Saturday evening, but I would be happy to see you and your family again this Friday evening at 6 pm._

_Regards,_

_Liseli_

…

A/N: The Wiggenweld potion is from one of the Harry Potter video games (as I learned from the Harry Potter Wiki).

Many thanks to kci47 for beta-reading!


	9. Ch8: Deneb and MarieAnge

_Previously in Chapter 7:_ Severus gave his class a pop quiz that caused his students to be late for their Defense Against the Dark Arts class, leading to an argument between Severus and Liseli that Liseli cut short by leaving to write a letter to her brother Deneb about meeting for dinner that weekend.

**Chapter 8: Deneb and Marie-Ange**

When Friday finally came around and Liseli found herself standing on the doorstep of her brother Deneb's house, she began wondering if her curiosity was really a good enough reason to spend the evening with him and his family. While Marie-Ange was a very good cook, previous times she had come over to see them Deneb had had a tendency to talk only about himself, and it had become aggravating over the years.

"Ah, Liseli!" Marie-Ange swung the door open and enthusiastically greeted Liseli with a peck on each cheek. It appeared that Marie-Ange had curled her blonde hair for the occasion, and she was wearing traces of rouge on her delicate features. "Come in, come in. Laurent, Adelaide! Come say hello to your aunt!"

A girl with bright blonde hair tied into pigtails and a boy with mousy brown hair ran into the room, smiling, before hanging back from the doorway and giving a tentative wave to Liseli.

"Laurent, tell your aunt how old you are now," Marie-Ange smiled.

"Four an' a half, but I'm gonna be _five_ in two weeks."

"And how old are you Adelaide?"

The girl held up two fingers with a shy smile, before hiding slightly behind her brother.

"Deneb's not home from work yet," Marie-Ange turned back to Liseli with a smile. "But we can just watch the kids play until then."

The house was similar to the last time Liseli had seen it: thickly carpeted floors with furniture that, while expensive-looking, was not overly ornate or antique. It left the house with a light, airy feel and, in spite of herself, Liseli had to admit she rather liked her sister-in-law's decorating abilities. There was a playroom near the back, where several colorful bins of toys were lined up by the door and the walls bore the signs of repeated _Scourgify_s and traces of crayon that had managed to stubbornly cling to the otherwise white walls.

"Laurent, Adelaide, do you want to draw?" Marie-Ange asked, before laying out some paper and crayons on a blue table in the playroom and taking a seat near Liseli against a wall. "It's so nice having children in the house again," she smiled contentedly.

Liseli glanced around the room a second time. She knew that Marie-Ange had had two children soon after marrying Deneb, such that they must have been nearly adults by now, and she briefly asked, "Are your other children both at school right now?"

"Yes, Didier and Simone are both living at Beauxbatons. It's already Didier's second to last year. They're growing up," the other woman sighed. "They're both excellent students, of course, Didier especially. And Simone said she's going to bring her boyfriend home over the holidays to meet us."

"That's nice." Liseli recalled receiving a smiling photo of Didier and Simone, posing with their younger siblings, in a Christmas card last year, but she briefly calculated that she hadn't seen them in person for a few years.

Marie-Ange smiled warmly and politely asked in return, "And how are you? Deneb said you have a new job?"

"Yes, I'm teaching at Hogwarts now. It's quite enjoyable." It pays better than private tutoring, too, Liseli silently added.

Marie-Ange nodded, before winking knowingly. "Enjoyable, you say? Is there perhaps someone new in your life? Someone special?"

Liseli raised an eyebrow before nonchalantly replying, "Several hundred new people, I suppose."

"Pardon?" Marie-Ange said with a confused frown.

"Seeing as I hadn't met most of the current Hogwarts' resident before, there happens to be several hundred new people in my life," Liseli replied, disinterestedly focusing her attention on examining her fingernails. "Although only a portion of the students are gifted enough to be particularly special."

"Oh, Liseli, that's not what I meant by someone special," Marie-Ange said, her tinkling laugh filling the room.

Silently thinking that her attempt to change the conversation by talking about her students seemed to have failed, Liseli replied with a polite smile, "No, there's no one special in my life right now. I'm quite happy focusing on my career."

Marie-Ange disbelievingly placed a sympathetic hand on Liseli's shoulder. "If you like, I'm sure I could find someone to set you up with," she smiled helpfully.

Frowning, Liseli said, "Do you remember what happened the last time I took your offer for you to set me up with someone?"

"Was that…That was one of my sister's friends, right?" she thoughtfully replied. "Julien? He's so nice, very charming, very successful in the fabric industry."

"He also doesn't speak English. Do you know how hard it is to have a date when you don't speak the same language?"

"But that's what translation charms are for!" Marie-Ange cheerfully replied. "Have you not learned them before? Here, I can teach you," she said, moving to reach for her wand.

"No, I know how to cast a translation charm," Liseli promptly replied, lightly touching Marie-Ange's outstretched arm. "They don't translate idioms, though; when I used the expression of painting the town red, Julien thought I was supporting vandalism."

"Oh. I don't think I would want to date someone who liked vandalism," she pensively frowned in response. "I'm sure I could find someone for you who does speak English, though – "

"Thank you for the offer, but I'm perfectly fine," Liseli sighed in a curtly polite tone.

Marie-Ange gave a nearly disappointed sigh. "Okay, but if you ever change your mind, you know my floo is always open," she brightly finished.

"Mummy, look at what I drew!" Laurent cheerfully bounded up to the two seated women, and proudly held out a crayon drawing to Marie-Ange. "This is you an' Daddy – " he pointed to two tall stick figures, one with a triangle of a dress "— an' this is me, an' Addy –" he pointed to two shorter stick figures with red crayon smiles.

"Isn't that precious?" Marie-Ange whispered to Liseli, before adding with a pat on her shoulder, "Once you have children, you'll understand."

Marie-Ange was still beaming at Laurent and Adelaide when a man's voice resonated through the hallway. "Honey?"

"Oh, Deneb's here!" Marie-Ange smiled widely and quickly stood up, followed by Liseli. "Come on, Adelaide, Laurent, Daddy's home."

"Liseli, it's good to see you again!" Deneb, still dressed in his Ministry uniform, greeted her with a peck on each cheek. He looked as though he had become chubbier since the last time she saw him, and his light brown hair was cut slightly shorter. "Is dinner almost ready, honey?" he addressed his beaming wife, who glanced at the clock on the wall before replying.

"It should be, just let me go pull it out of the oven. I made meatloaf," she added over her shoulder.

Once they were all seated, and Marie-Ange had reminded Adelaide that forks were for eating with and not for throwing food at brothers, Deneb turned towards Liseli and spoke again, "So I heard you're working at Hogwarts, now! It's a shame Simone and Didier don't go there, they'd get to see their aunt every day."

"I'm sure Beauxbatons is an excellent school," Liseli replied. She didn't actually know very much about the school, besides that it was located in France, but she thought it was a sufficiently polite comment to say.

"It's a wonderful school," Marie-Ange beamed. "My older brother and sister both went there. Of course I went to Hogwarts, as you know." She gave her tinkling laugh again and lightly touched Deneb's arm.

Deneb's eyes were glittering with self-interest as he turned to Liseli to address her. "How's Dumbledore? Quite the important man, nowadays. I would say the eyes of the whole world are on him."

"I would imagine he's fine. I don't talk with him particularly often," she lightly replied as she took a sip from her glass. "You know, it's funny, I don't recall ever telling you about my job at Hogwarts."

"You didn't? Ah—" his eyes darted back and forth across her face "—I probably just heard it somewhere, then. I have a number of co-workers who have Hogwarts-aged children." Liseli strongly suspected that Deneb made a habit of knowing the career choices of anyone who could potentially be useful, but she grudgingly listened as he continued, "I don't suppose Dumbledore still remembers me?"

Adelaide accidentally knocked over her cup of grape juice, earning turned heads from the entire table as Marie-Ange stood up to clean it up. "Remember Adelaide, small movements," her mother gently chastised the two-year old as she poured her a new glass of grape juice.

"I don't know if Dumbledore remembers you or not, Deneb," Liseli turned her attention away from the small girl again. "I'm sure he has had many students."

He appeared somewhat disappointed. "Ah, yes, well, that is true. Although not as many Head Boys, I imagine. Well, if he ever does mention my name, I'd be happy to talk with the man sometime. I'm sure he likes to keep up with his old students, the old Head Boys especially."

Liseli silently thought that Dumbledore would probably be more likely to take the Giant Squid to lunch then all of his old students, given that his old students comprised the entire wizarding population of Britain. Instead she politely replied with a false smile, "Will do." She doubted Dumbledore would ever mention Deneb's name, but Deneb leaned back in his chair slightly, a pleased on his face.

"Laurent, you apologize for flinging peas at your sister!" Marie-Ange's voice drifted into their conversation again.

"She kicked my chair!" he stubbornly replied.

"Laurent, we have company," Marie-Ange stated in a quieter voice with an edge of warning to it. "Apologize to your sister."

"I'm sorry, Adelaide," he pouted without looking at his sister. Marie-Ange turned her attention back towards the table with a slight smile. After a second Laurent stubbornly whispered, "J'suis pas desolé."

"Laurent!" Marie-Ange scolded.

"Simone and Didier have been teaching Laurent and Adelaide French during the school holidays," Deneb explained to Liseli, while Marie-Ange continued mediating between her two children. "Marie-Ange immigrated so young that her French isn't very good, and sometimes Laurent tries to sneak things by her by speaking in French. Clever boy, but it doesn't always work."

"Does Laurent always pick on Adelaide?" Liseli frowned.

"You'd have to ask Marie-Ange, since she takes care of raising the children. I don't think so, but maybe occasionally. He is older and bigger than her," he said lightly.

"I can imagine that," she replied dryly, looking at the two children. "Although admittedly I don't recall if our brother Seginus ever flung peas at me. He was more likely to enchant me into trees so I couldn't get back down."

"I always thought you just liked climbing trees," Deneb casually replied, taking a last bite of meatloaf.

By this point it seemed the mild commotion between Adelaide and Laurent had settled down, and Marie-Ange returned to her seat from her mediating position standing between the two children's seats. "Speaking of family, I saw Tarazet recently," Liseli said, carefully watching Deneb's reaction.

She had directed her comment towards Deneb, but it was Marie-Ange who reacted first. "Adelaide, Laurent, are you both finished eating? Why don't you go back to the playroom for a bit while the adults talk?" The two small children eagerly ran back to the playroom while smiling at each other, earlier pea-flinging-incidents already forgotten. Liseli shot a curious look at Marie-Ange who quickly stated with a defensive edge to her voice, "I don't want to taint the children's opinion of themselves by letting them know they're related to people like_ that_."

" 'Like that'? He's a counterfeiter, not a murderer."

Marie-Ange's voice had a defensive air to it as she spoke, and Liseli was rather reminded of the way a mother bear might protect its cubs. "He's still a criminal, and I don't want my children being afraid, or getting any ideas, or associating with him in anyway."

Liseli gave Marie-Ange an incredulous smile. "What do you tell them? That one of their uncles has been mysteriously out of contact for the past fifteen years? Besides, didn't Didier meet Tarazet before he was arrested?"

"Didier was too young to remember that, and we don't tell them about him otherwise. They don't need to know they're related to a criminal."

"I'll assume you haven't told them about Seginus or Matar, then. Interesting how they think they have no uncles, not the three they do have."

"Yes, and we'd like to keep it that way, if you'll cooperate. Neither Deneb nor I have any desire to associate with them. When you have children, you can raise your children however you like," Marie-Ange finished, before adding with a polite but annoyed smile, "I'm going to clear the table if you're both done eating."

"Do you want to see the garden, Liseli?" Deneb turned towards her.

"I — sure." She recalled having seen the garden previous times she was here, but suspected Deneb's suggestion was driven less by a desire to show her their newest shrubbery than by a desire to be out of Marie-Ange's hearing range.

"So you said you saw Tarazet?" Deneb said once they were outside.

"Yes, and he said that you visited him recently," Liseli replied, glad that she could finally get to the point of her visit.

"That I did. I visited him as he was being released from Azkaban." He gave what Liseli imagined was intended to be a humble-looking nod as they continued walking slowly around the garden. "I have to admit I'm surprised you weren't there. Aren't you two friends?"

"Not anymore." Liseli felt a twinge of guilt, before making a mental note of one reason why Deneb might have visited Tarazet: he had expected to see her there, in what would likely be a more natural setting than unexpectedly inviting her for dinner.

"Ah, really? When did this happen?" A look of legitimate surprise passed over Deneb's face, followed by mild disappointment, as though someone had just told him he lost a bet.

"Deneb, you disowned Tarazet after he was arrested. You can hardly expect to be kept up-to-date. You didn't even go to his trial," Liseli said impatiently, glancing away at a dormant rose bush they were passing.

"Well, yes," Deneb said slowly, clearly gauging the situation. "Not because I dislike him, though. When it comes to promotions the Ministry does not look kindly upon people who associate with criminals. That's my sole reason for disowning him."

"Yes, I know. You said that at the time, too," Liseli said, feeling a flash of annoyance at Deneb for always putting his career first. A second later it struck her that she had told Tarazet to leave Hogwarts when he visited because she had been worried it might hurt her career to be seen associating with a criminal, and she felt a twinge of guilt.

"I did the same when Seginus and Matar were arrested, also," Deneb added defensively. "It's just good business practice."

"But you were never close to Seginus and Matar – they were too much older than you growing up," Liseli rebutted.

Deneb was silent for a moment, as though considering how to reply, and Liseli could almost hear Deneb thinking that he had never been particularly close to Tarazet, either. As far as Liseli could tell, while Deneb was amicable with all of their siblings, his being the middle child had somehow resulted in his closest friends being people he met outside of the family.

When Deneb finally spoke, he demurely said, "Regardless, I appear to be unfortunately out-of-date about family going-ons, but if you wanted to update me…"

Liseli let out an aggravated sigh. "It's a long story."

"I see." His eyes flicked back and forth over her facial expression, and he seemed to quickly reconsider what he was going to say. They walked in silence for several moments longer, with Liseli disinterestedly glancing at several flowering bushes before Deneb carefully said, "I assumed you two had been in contact these past years, but that seems to be incorrect?"

"Azkaban prisoners can't receive owls, which you would know if you had actually attempted to ever owl Tarazet. I corresponded with him up until he was sent to Azkaban, but after that I wasn't able to," she said wearily. "Listen, Deneb, it's getting late. I should probably return to Hogwarts."

"Ah, well, of course. I imagine you have a lot of work to do at Hogwarts," he replied, his voice taking on the air of formalities again. They were walking towards the door when he unexpectedly added, "You know, he wasn't exactly in the best shape when I saw him."

"Who? Tarazet?"

"Yes; I would think it has something to do with the Dementors at Azkaban."

Liseli frowned, and was about to push him to elaborate, when they reached the house door; Marie-Ange was standing there, effectively silencing their conversation. With several more gracious "thank you"s and pecks on the cheek, Liseli left for Hogwarts.

Odd, Liseli thought, shaking her head. She knew Deneb was a firm believer that Ministry promotions were dependent on who you knew, not what you did, so she found it unsurprising that he was interested in contacting Dumbledore through her. Likewise, if Deneb had believed she was friends with Tarazet it made sense that he had hoped being friendly with Tarazet would help him into her good graces. What was odd was Deneb's last sentence. If he knew that she and Tarazet were no longer friends, why would he bring up that Tarazet wasn't well? Was he trying to convince her to see Tarazet in a more sympathetic light? Or trying to convince her to stay away from him? Unless he actually hadn't had any ulterior motives? She shook her head. Her understanding of Deneb had slipped from between her fingers again.

…

A/N: The next update will come in about a week. I'll be moving soon to start my new job so I can't estimate the date any more precisely than that, but regular updates will still continue. Also, many, many thanks to kci47 for beta-reading this chapter! (And beta-reading it again, and again and…)

I always love to hear from my readers, even if in just a two-word review :-)


	10. Ch9: Honeydukes

**Chapter 9: Honeydukes**

It was clear and cold that late Saturday afternoon, and the sun's setting rays were glinting off the Quidditch pitch as Ravenclaw's seeker rocketed towards the ground.

"And Chang is racing towards something—but is it the Snitch? Malfoy seems to think so, but his attempt to catch up doesn't look like it's going to work because—oh! That's going to smart in the morning!"

The narrating voice paused as the crowd let out a loud gasp: Cho Chang's attempt to skid along the ground had resulted in her tumbling off of her broom.

"But the more important question—has Chang caught the snitch?" the voice continued. The blue-robed teen shakily got to her feet, her broom having skidded several meters away, and held up a single fist. "And it's over! Chang is holding up the snitch, and that's 150 points to Ravenclaw! Ravenclaw beats Slytherin, 230 to 50!"

The blue and bronze portion of the stands erupted into cheers, and with multiple loud _bangs!_ blue confetti exploded from the tips of several older students' wands. Liseli let out a disappointed sigh from her seat in the Slytherin section, and quiet grumbling sounds could be heard from the rest of the Slytherin audience as they dejectedly filed out of the stands. Snape, who Liseli had silently taken a seat next to due to his presence as the only other Slytherin on Hogwarts' staff, appeared slightly displeased with the outcome, but was otherwise emotionless.

Once Liseli had climbed down from the stands to ground level and started on the path back to Hogwarts, the colors of green and silver became mingled with blue and bronze and even dashes of red and yellow from the avid Gryffindor and Hufflepuff Quidditch fans. Slightly ahead of her, she noticed the lumbering form of Hagrid, at least twice as tall as any of the surrounding students.

"Hello, Hagrid. Hello to you, too, Ron, Harry," she added upon noticing that he was walking with two of his students. "What did you think of the match?"

"Interesting. I think we know more about Slytherin's and Ravenclaw's strategies, now. Hopefully it'll come in handy when we play Ravenclaw next," Harry cheerfully explained.

Ron nodded before adding, "The Ravenclaw chasers were definitely experimenting with some new formations. They might have them down by the time we play them, so we're going to have to be on our toes."

"And we'll have to watch out for when we play Slytherin later in the year, too. Crabbe and Goyle were both really brutal beaters in this game, lots of fouls," Harry said.

"I bet yeh are still goin' to do great when you play 'em," Hagrid inconsequentially waved his hand.

"Yeah, hopefully," Harry smiled, before turning to Liseli. "So what'd you think of the game?"

"Fun to watch, but I was hoping Slytherin would win," she responded lightly, and Harry let out a surprised laugh.

"Slytherin? Did you place a bet on them or something?"

Liseli turned her head slightly, carefully considered her next words. Apparently they didn't know her house and, while she didn't want to associate herself with Slytherin's reputation, her house wasn't exactly a secret, either. "When I was a student here, I was in Slytherin," she finally replied.

Ron frowned, and Harry's eyebrows nearly shot off his forehead at her words. "Slytherin? Really?" he blurt out.

"Slytherin does seem to have quite the unfortunate reputation with Gryffindor. It's a shame, because the only trait Slytherins have in common is being clever, but people seem to forget that and only remember the Slytherins who are Death Eaters—and there are quite a lot of us who aren't."

"Oh, well, yeah," Harry replied sheepishly, looking away as he spoke. "Sorry, I didn't mean—well, yeah."

"It's fine." Liseli gave a polite smile, before slowing her walking speed and explaining, "I have an errand to run in Hogsmeade, so I should turn here; enjoy your walk back to the castle."

She had barely turned off of the main path when she heard Snape's voice coming from among the thinning crowd of Quidditch onlookers who were still returning to the castle. "Surely you're not going to Hogsmeade at this time of day?"

Turning to face him, Liseli replied, "As a matter of fact I am. Why do you ask?"

"It's nearly nighttime. I would not consider Hogsmeade the safest of locations at nighttime," Snape drawled, as though such a fact was obvious.

"I'm not particularly worried," she stated, mildly aggravated by his condescending tone. "I am an adult and perfectly capable of defending myself."

"I am sure most adults believe they are capable of defending themselves, but in case you haven't noticed from your reading of the Daily Prophet, Saturday night happens to be a popular time for Death Eater attacks. I imagine most of the professors would consider you quite foolish for going to Hogsmeade alone on a Saturday night."

Liseli hesitated; being the youngest professor on the staff, she had been trying to win the other professors' respect since the beginning of the school year, and she had no desire to potentially lower their opinion of her. "Yes, well, it so happens I have an errand to run tonight so, as it is, it's a moot point," she replied. After a second she sarcastically added, "Unless you're volunteering to accompany me?"

Snape opened his mouth, rather as though this conversation was taking a turn he had neither intended nor wanted, and he glanced around at the few members of the crowd who were still making their way back to Hogwarts. None of the other professors in attendance had apparently been near the tail-end of the crowd, as they were. He finally replied, "As overjoyed as I would be to substitute teach your classes if you were horribly injured, it would inconvenience my Potions students. Seeing as it is therefore in my best interest if you avoid any massive injuries, if you insist on going to Hogsmeade then, yes, I suppose I could accompany you."

Liseli had to prevent a displeased look from appearing on her face; she had been quite certain Snape wouldn't take her comment seriously. "I fail to see how two people walking through Hogsmeade would stand a much better chance against the Death Eaters than one person," she said coolly.

"When one of the people is me, you would be surprised," he accompanied his words with a triumphant sneer, and Liseli wondered if he was always that full of himself. "Dare I ask what errand is of such burning importance it cannot wait until after the weekend?" he asked after they had begun walking.

"It's my nephew's birthday tomorrow. Given that I've forgotten previous years, I thought I ought to send him a gift."

"Charming." They continued towards Hogsmeade in silence for several minutes until Snape turned towards her and said, "You know, Colburn, you appear to have shrunk."

Liseli frowned. Walking to Hogsmeade alone and risking a Death Eater attack was beginning to seem more and more appealing. "I generally only wear heels on days when I'm teaching, and therefore not during the weekend; I imagine I appear shorter without them."

"I suppose there is that saying, 'height is power'," Snape replied nonchalantly. "Shame you have so little of it."

Resisting the urge to point out that Snape himself was somewhat short, Liseli bit her tongue. "We're here," Liseli said, gesturing towards a storefront.

"Honeydukes? Far be it from me to comment on your taste in gifts, but your nephew is how old?"

"He's five, and you're right. It ought to be far from you to comment on my taste in gifts," she replied, before turning her attention to the rows of brightly wrapped sweets.

"Smedley's Sour Suckers — So sour you won't be able to unpucker your lips for days!" exclaimed a yellow and black polka dot bag near the entrance. Directly adjacent was a display for "Great Balls O' Fire — Set your friends' tongues on fire!" Snape was standing near the entrance with a slight sneer frozen on his features, as though the bright colors and rows of sweets were a perplexing oddity at the least, if not on the verge of being outright offensive. Judging by the shopkeeper's glance at Snape, the shopkeeper seemed to have a similar opinion of the Potions Master and his stiffly ironed black robes. It looked as though Snape had never set foot in a candy shop before, and Liseli was torn between being terribly amused and almost feeling bad for him.

The expression on Snape's face was beginning to suggest that he was rather regretting his decision to accompany Liseli, when Liseli decided she ought to make some attempt at civil conversation.

"I wouldn't recommend those, they're disgusting," Liseli said conversationally, gesturing towards the Cockroach Clusters display he was standing next to. "When you take a bite, it activates an animating charm, so the pieces start crawling around your mouth like an actual insect. My brother Seginus tricked me into eating one once, and it wasn't a very pleasant experience."

Snape gave a disinterested sneer, as though she had interrupted his calculation of an elaborate formula expressing how little he wanted to be here.

With a slight shrug, Liseli turned her attention back to the rows of sweets. She finally decided on a box of Fizzing Whizzbees and brought it to the shopkeeper, a rather bored-looking man who was wearing a fuzzy magenta top hat.

By the time they left, most of the other Hogsmeade stores were beginning to shut their doors for the day, and the street lamps flickering alive with their luminous yellow glows similarly suggested the fall of nighttime. "I was thinking of giving some of my younger students sweets on Halloween to teach them how to check food for curses," Liseli said after she and Snape had been walking back to Hogwarts in silence for several minutes.

Snape was silent for another minute, and Liseli had decided he wasn't going to reply when he finally said, "What curse are you planning to enchant them with?" For once he didn't sound bored or condescending, but instead almost interested.

"I wasn't planning on actually cursing them," Liseli said with a surprised expression.

"Why not?"

"It's the premise that matters, and I would rather not risk getting howlers from parents concerned for the well-being of their dearest so-and-so," Liseli replied.

"If you don't give the students an actual need to check for curses, then you are sending the message that Dark Magic only exists inside the carefully controlled environment of the classroom, and that it is not something they need to constantly be on their guard against," Snape rebutted.

Now it was Liseli's turn to fall silent. The fact he had spoken with the tone of a spirited debate, and not the snidely condescending tone that he normally used, made her willing to consider his point. "Admittedly," she finally replied. "I may ask to borrow a cauldron from Hogwarts' stores, then; I would probably use the _Aegrus Venter_ curse, which requires a brewed antidote."

"_You_ would brew a potion?" Snape's condescending tone made a full return and any pleasant—or at least neutral—feelings she had been directing towards him immediately vanished.

"I don't believe leaving my students cursed is an option and, seeing as the _Aegrus Ventur_ curse only has an antidote and not a countercurse, yes, I would brew the antidote. Why, is that a problem?"

"Yes, it is, because if you poison the students with a poorly prepared potion, it will become my responsibility to remedy the situation."

"Your confidence in my potion skills is quite the inspiration," she replied dryly. "Unless that's your way of volunteering to brew it?"

For a moment he paused, as though considering it. Liseli was about to snap that she had meant her last comment as a way to end the conversation, and not an actual question, when he finally spoke. "Most professors come to me when they have a complicated potion that needs brewing because, as Potions Master, that is one of my responsibilities. Seeing as it would be more time consuming to research an antidote when you poison your students than if I simply brewed the correct potion in the first place I suppose, yes, I can brew the _Aegrus Venter_ potion for you."

Liseli was about to comment that she didn't appreciate his believing she would accidentally poison the students, when it struck her—was this Snape's way of being nice? Was it possible that Snape, at least occasionally, had a decent side?

It didn't excuse his condescending tone, but it did cause her to refrain from speaking any of the annoyed comments that were running through her head. While she would usually be loath to accept his help, if she had to admit it to herself, potions was not her strongest subject. The only explanation she could think of for her passing grade in the Potions NEWT was that Slughorn must have made a grading mistake somewhere. This was, of course, something she would take to her grave before admitting to Snape.

They had just reached the entrance to Hogwarts, when Liseli lightly said, "You can brew the antidote, if you insist."

Snape replied with a slight nod, and Liseli found herself hiding a small smile as they began walking in their respective directions.

…

A/N: Many, many thanks to kci47 for beta-reading!


	11. Ch10: The Break-In to Azkaban

**Chapter 10: The Break-In to Azkaban**

Malfoy Manor had, as of late, possessed a deathly sort of stillness whenever Severus visited. Currently Narcissa and Bellatrix were sitting across from him in the Malfoys' smallest tea room, and he could hear the ticking of a Grandfather clock three rooms away. Their half-finished dinners were in front of them, and although it was not the sort of thing Severus would say aloud, Narcissa was not the best cook. She was a rather poor cook, actually, and it was extraordinarily clear she was used to having a House Elf. He wasn't exactly sure what had happened to House Elf the Malfoys had had until a few years ago (Bobby, was it?), but it seemed to be a sensitive topic with Lucius, who angrily muttered something about Potter and the cost of House Elves nowadays when Severus brought the topic up.

"Thank you for dinner, Narcissa. It was delicious," Severus politely stated.

Narcissa gave a small smile. "It's Halloween, Severus. The least I could do is invite you over for dinner, especially with the Dark Lord's plans for tonight."

He slowly replied, "I know it's difficult, Narcissa, but you must try to not get your hopes up. We can't guarantee that tonight's Azkaban break-out will be successful."

"Oh, let her get her hopes up, Snape," Bellatrix interrupted, before smugly adding, "We succeeded once before, didn't we?"

"We're attempting to free several dozen more Death Eaters than last time. The fewer people that are being broken out, the easier it is," he replied coolly, before adding, "Why, I recall Sirius breaking out of Azkaban without _any_ help, and that was something you couldn't do."

"How dare you compare me to that blood traitor!" Bellatrix exclaimed, and Severus watched with mild amusement as her face gained an angered flush.

By this point Narcissa was holding a hand to her temples, and an exasperated expression was gracing her otherwise delicate face. "Bella, please," she held up a calming hand to her sister. "I'm sure Severus didn't mean to compare you to Sirius."

Severus had actually intended exactly that, but he decided it wiser to stay silent for the sake of Narcissa and what was undoubtedly her highly-elevated blood pressure by this point.

"And, Severus," Narcissa wearily continued, "do be careful with how you phrase things next time."

"My apologies, Narcissa," he replied, feeling a dash of remorse for trying his hostess's nerves. Nearly every time Severus visited his old friend Narcissa, Bellatrix and him broke into an argument that became Narcissa's responsibility to extinguish.

Bellatrix gave Severus a sneering 'I told you so' sort of glare until her sister turned to her and said, "Bella, would you mind taking the dishes to the kitchen?"

Bellatrix's sneer became frozen with mild surprise at the unexpected request, before she grudgingly said, "I suppose."

Given the size of the Malfoy Manor, it would be at least five minutes before Bellatrix returned, and Narcissa gave a relaxed sigh as she settled back in her seat. "Severus, I don't believe you've been able to get a word in edgewise this evening. How are things at Hogwarts? Normally I hear about Hogwarts from Draco, but he doesn't write me as much as he used to. I don't even know anything about his classes or his friends this year."

Severus gave a sympathetic nod. "Draco's very distracted, due to the Dark Lord's mission for him, but he seems to be holding the other parts of his life together well." Truthfully, he didn't know very much at all about how Draco's life was going; all he knew was that Draco's level of rambunctious trouble-making had taken a drastic nose-dive this year. Saying that Draco was managing seemed the best thing to tell Narcissa, though, because she couldn't do anything to help Draco, and it would be pointless to worry her.

"That's good," Narcissa replied, clasping her hands together in a wringing motion suggesting his words did not completely assuage her worry. "How are you? You look tired, but I suppose that's to be expected during a war," she said, her voice possessing hints of a mothering tone.

"I'm fine," he said with a bored wave of his hand. Deciding he should move onto more important matters he continued, "About tonight, I must remind you that I'll try to assure Lucius safely reaches freedom, but it will undoubtedly be very chaotic, and you must be prepared for the worst."

"I know," Narcissa whispered, wringing her hands more urgently.

Severus felt as though he had barely completed his sentence when he felt a sharp burning sensation on his left arm. "Speak of the devil," he muttered.

Vaguely wondering whether Bellatrix would be Apparating at the same moment from the other side of the manor, Severus lifted his left sleeve and pressed his wand against his Dark Mark. He could just hear the start of Narcissa's worried words to "Be careful," and then the whirling sensation of forced Apparation ripped him off his feet until the nighttime sky and robed figures of the Dark Lord's inner circle swam into sight.

After the slight dizziness from the forced Apparation had disappeared, he quickly took stock of his surroundings. It seemed that a dozen or so Death Eaters were standing on a relatively small boat that was swaying and pitching in the choppy sea. The Dark Lord was regarding them from his seated position on one side of the boat, and there were over a dozen, neatly organized brooms opposite of him. Yaxley, standing next to Severus, looked as though he was going to be seasick, and Severus silently hoped he would go be sick somewhere else.

"Just a few more," the Dark Lord hissed as his red eyes flicked between the members of the assembled crowd.

Severus didn't know the details of the last Azkaban break-out, for that was during a time when the Dark Lord had decided Severus's position as a spy made him too valuable to carry out the mundane dirty work other Death Eaters carried out. He suspected, however, that the break-out was going to be more difficult than previously. While there were significantly fewer Dementors than last time, some of the Dementors had not left their posts as prison guards, and those that remained had been joined by large numbers of Aurors.

A few last _cracks!_ broke the silence, indicating the arrival of all the Death Eaters who had been called. "After the mission is completed, we will reconvene in meeting spot 26A. For those of you with poor memories, that is the forest in southern Wales," the Dark Lord drawled, his eyes lazily glancing between the robed figures. "But let us not get ahead of ourselves. Snape, Carrow, Wormtail: you have two minutes. Go."

The thumping of Severus's heart against his ribcage seemed to second his thought that he would have greatly preferred to not be part of the first wave. Yes, if he was arrested it was likely Dumbledore would manage to secure his freedom, but if he was killed by an Auror Dumbledore couldn't undo that.

Amycus Carrow and Wormtail had already snapped up brooms from the boat's deck, and within a second Severus had followed course, the cold night air whizzing by his face as he pushed into the air. He idly debated hexing Wormtail off his broom and leaving him to drown in the stormy seas, but he grudgingly decided against it. It would have likely earned him some degree of punishment from the Dark Lord because a servant was a servant, even if that servant happened to be Peter Pettigrew.

As they continued flying, Severus quickly calculated that it should have been only ten minutes to Azkaban's island by broom, but the freezing wind tearing past his masked face and crawling through his bones seemed to freeze time in place, as well.

And now the cold was burrowing deeper than just his bones; it seemed to be encircling his soul itself, dragging it into the depths of the icy water he was flying over, because _Why was he even doing this?_ and _Why was he risking his life?_ and now memories of calling Lily _'_Mudblood' and apologies in vain and—

**Thirty seconds.**

Severus whipped his head to look at Amycus, who likewise exchanged a look with both him and Wormtail. So they had all heard that thought, so rudely interrupting and in a voice clearly different from their own. Even if the Dark Lord couldn't extract thoughts from his followers at will, it appeared he had recently mastered inserting thoughts at will, and the idea of such intrusiveness left Severus feeling uneasy.

But was there really only thirty seconds left? They were supposed to arrive at Azkaban a full two minutes before the second wave of Death Eaters. Were they flying slower than they had planned? Or had they somehow flown over the island entirely, not noticing it in the pitch blackness of the night? Within a few seconds, Severus had an answer and he heaved a sigh of relief at the sight of Azkaban's jagged walls rising into the sky. A number of Dementors encircled the perimeter, and it struck him: Dementors. That was the source of soul-chilling coldness he had started feeling, the source of his thoughts about Lily's rejection. Closing his mind and focusing his strength on the rapidly approaching island, he bellowed, "_Expecto Patronum!_"

Two cries of "_Expecto Patronum!_" echoed behind him and then a doe, a raven and a rat were scattering the Dementors away from the entrance. The need to start the break-in by removing the Dementors was the only reason Snape and Wormtail, _Wormtail_ of all people, had been chosen to lead the attack. Having both been members of the Order of the Phoenix, they had proven they could reliably conjure Patronuses. Even after training, the only other Death Eater who had been able to consistently manage such a feat before the break-in date was Amycus, whose silvery raven was currently chasing Dementors towards the expanse of open sea.

Out of the darkness, ten figures on brooms tore by, and they only slowed upon noticing the Dementors. "You haven't finished yet?" Bellatrix's voice shrieked from her position on one of the ten brooms.

"Until you can conjure a Patronus yourself, shut it!" Amycus snapped back as his silvery raven continued circling the grim-looking island.

"Fifteen minutes until the third wave, hurry up!" Yaxley's voice barked from the small group of additional Death Eaters.

Finally the last of the Dementors had been removed to the distant reaches of the ocean and now: to wait. Twirling wands, jiggling feet and constant glancing between the different masked members bespoke of their nervous energy until finally—

The main entrance to Azkaban creaked open, a puzzled guard poking his head out at the sudden change in atmosphere caused by the loss of Dementors. The procession of thirteen brooms flew towards the open door and exploded inside, much to the lone guard's shock, and Severus's senses were greeted with rows and rows of rusted jail bars and the reek of too many humans in too small of a space.

A barrage of multi-colored hexes cast by the Auror guards soared towards the invaders and the Death Eaters hastily began retaliating. Echoing battle cries were mingling with the yelled commands of Death Eaters, and a pudgy guard was being slammed bodily against one of the walls. Someone was yelling "Start with Cell Block D!" and a guard who was nearly seven feet tall was being sent crashing against the bars of a prison cell. Another voice was yelling "Cell Block J, now, _charge!_" and the prisoners were screaming, rattling their cell bars and waving their bony limbs in a hopeful attempt to be freed.

With theatrics and fire, Bellatrix had danced her way to the front of the assault, her open mouth suggesting cackling laughter as she sent curses towards three separate guards. A hand sharply grasped Severus's shoulder, and he turned to see Yaxley angrily gesturing towards Bellatrix. Severus, Yaxley, and Bellatrix were responsible for freeing Cell Block X, where the Death Eaters who had been at the Department of Mysteries were imprisoned.

To free Cell Block X, though, the three of them had to break through the line of guards to reach the other end of Azkaban's stretching corridors, and Bellatrix seemed immovable. If Bellatrix wasn't going to help them penetrate past the distraction of battle, they would have to find some other method to get to the deepest interior of Azkaban, and an idea suddenly struck Severus. It was one thing to try and run past the guards, but if they could somehow get _over_ the guards—

"_Accio _broom!" he cried out, and one of the brooms they had flown in on whizzed into his hand. Within a second he was in the air, flying past the battle now below him to the other end of Azkaban. A few guards from the further cell blocks were sprinting towards the direction of the explosive curses near the entrance, and it occurred to Severus that he would need at least one guard around to deactivate the cells' security charms. A quick Imperius Curse helped one such guard start sprinting in the direction Severus was flying.

Yaxley touched down only a few seconds after Severus, having evidently borrowed his idea of flying. Only an additional few seconds later the individual guards they had both placed under the Imperius Curse obediently came running their direction.

A counterclockwise twist of the wand, followed by three short jabs, followed by seven clockwise turns, followed by…

Severus nearly lost track of the steps his imperiused guard was performing, until the rusted bars of the cell in front of him melted into sand and revealed a slightly worse for the wear Lucius Malfoy.

…

A/N: Next chapter will be a continuation of this chapter; they were originally one chapter, but it ended up being too long, so I split it into two chapters.

Many thanks to kci47 for beta-reading!


	12. Ch11: The Break-Out from Azkaban

_Previously in Chapter 10:_ Voldemort assembled some of the Death Eaters to attempt to free the imprisoned Death Eaters from Azkaban. Severus, Wormtail and Amycus succeeded in driving the Dementors away from Azkaban, and Severus and Yaxley succeeded in reaching the Cell Block where the Death Eaters who were arrested at the Ministry of Magic battle were imprisoned and began freeing said prisoners.

**Chapter 11: The Break-Out from Azkaban**

Lucius Malfoy weakly strode from his now-open cell and turned his head in the direction of the battle with mumbled thanks. To Severus's left, Yaxley's imperiused guard had transfigured the bars of another cell into thousands of tiny black beetles that were now scattering into adjacent cells, earning protesting yelps from the other prisoners. The release of Jugson and Rookwood followed a similar course, and Severus was hastily working on a fourth cell when the clattering of a broom falling to the ground informed him of Bellatrix's presence.

"I see you finally decided to join us, Bellatrix," he sneered as Avery's cell bars melted into puddles of water, and the ragged-looking man stumbled from his cell.

"I was helping the others incapacitate the guards," she spat in response, before hurriedly searching the cell block for another recognizable Death Eater.

One successful release later, and a blue jet of light suddenly went whizzing over Severus's shoulder. It pulverized the wall it contacted into gravel, and Severus whipped his head in the direction the spell had come from. A short man with grey hair and glasses, accompanied by a taller, blond man, were both running towards them. One was attempting to barrage the would-be escapees with hexes, while the other was throwing up protection charms to deflect any curses aimed their direction by Amycus Carrow, who was following closely behind them.

The approaching grey-haired guard sent another oscillating wave of blue light their direction, but Bellatrix sharply deflected the spell. It melted the rusted bars of a nearby prison cell into black smoke before it shot towards Yaxley, whose hastily cast shield charm unwittingly tossed the blue light in Jugson's direction. The blue light seemed to soak into Jugson's skin, and his knees buckled as he suddenly grabbed his throat with both hands, making horrible gasping sounds, and Yaxley began hastily waving his wand to cast the counter curse.

**Aurors approach. Retreat.**

Voldemort's coldly factually demand appeared to have been simultaneously placed in all of their thoughts, for even the grey-haired guard looked around with a confused expression on his face. A second later the guard had collapsed to the ground, the slight distraction having been more than long enough for Amycus's lethal curse to make contact.

Severus quickly summoned his broom before grabbing Lucius by the scruff of his robes, and indicating the broom. "Get on - we only have enough brooms if we share," Severus briskly stated, silently thinking that he had promised Narcissa he would free Lucius, anyway.

"Thanks, Severus," Lucius weakly whispered, clearly recognizing his voice. Severus mounted the broom, and Lucius awkwardly placed a hand on each of Severus's shoulders in an attempt to stay on the broom. He nearly fell off when they accelerated into the air, though, and Severus could practically hear Lucius think "Masculinity be damned," when he tightly wrapped his arms around Severus's waist in a desperate attempt to not fall off. "Merlin's balls, can you not fly straight?" Lucius cried out as they plunged several feet.

"When you're breaking me out of Azkaban, then you can fly," Severus yelled back, barely dodging a chunk of gravel dropping from the ceiling.

They had almost reached the entrance, now, and once they reached the entrance they would be free of the crumbling prison and the guards' hexes and curses. Just a bit further before they reached the night air outside, the night air that was oddly chilling—

A sinking filled Severus as he realized that dozens of Dementors were filing into the prison, evidently no longer deterred by their earlier Patronus-based expulsion.

"_Expecto Patronum!"_ Severus bellowed, and his silvery-white doe leapt towards the robed figures. His Patronus was outnumbered by the number of Dementors, though, and it struck him that at this rate it would take more time than he had to clear them away.

"Where the hell is your brother and his Patronus?" Severus yelled towards Alecto, who was flying slightly behind him.

"I don't know. I think he grabbed Rookwood an' got out," Alecto shouted back.

Severus was sorely tempted to fly over the Dementors to reach freedom, but any Death Eater who had been in prison since the end of the First War would experience too strong of a reaction to the Dementors to temporarily ignore them. Indeed, Dolohov's and Nott's broom had skidded to the ground, while Bellatrix's and Rodolphus's broom was frozen in mid-air, wobbling. Severus supposed he could send his Patronus to find and bring back Amycus, but that would require leaving the Dementors unattended and — wait, where was Wormtail? Had he also already fled?

He had barely finished his thought when a silvery white raven flew into the dank prison from outside, and the Death Eaters' sighs of relief were nearly audible when, cooperating, the two Patronuses chased the remaining Dementors away from the entrance and towards the open sea.

"Lestrange an' Mulciber said the Dementors were approachin' again," Amycus authoritatively bellowed from the Azkaban entrance, Rookwood nervously clinging to the back of his broom. "Where the hell is Wormtail an' his Patronus?"

"Are you really surprised?" Severus yelled, anger bubbling in his veins at Wormtail's cowardice.

In response, Amycus spat over the side of her broom with a disgusted expression. It looked as though he was about to add a verbal response when Rookwood suddenly collapsed from a jet of red light, and he let out a shocked gasp instead.

Kingsley Shacklebolt's wand was pointing directly towards them, a pack of fresh Aurors floating outside of the entrance to Azkaban.

They didn't have to fight the Aurors, though, Severus thought, his mind whirring. They just had to get outside the prison, and then they could Disapparate. He was already awfully close to the entrance, and if he had surprise on his side, then maybe —

With only a surprised yelp from Lucius behind him, Severus torpedoed towards the front entrance. He could see the pack of Aurors, and a blue jet of light, and a purple swath of heat, and a dozen other curses flying his direction, but if he just made it far enough —

With a loud _crack!_ Severus and Lucius had Disapparated from the exterior of Azkaban to the Death Eater's meeting spot in a Welsh forest. It suddenly occurred to Severus that normally when he Apparated he was standing still with both feet on the ground, not racing on a broom dozens of feet above the ground.

The two men gasped in unison as their momentum carried them at breakneck speeds towards a soaring tree. Severus could only help but be momentarily thankful they were at the height of the diffuse branches, and not the rather solid-looking trunk as they collided with dozens of thinner and thicker branches. Somehow the broom caught on one branch, and Lucius caught on another, and Severus could feel gravity tearing past him as more branches whipped past his face. With a dull thump he finally fell from the heights of the tree to the grassy ground beneath it.

Merlin, that hurt.

Another thump a second later told him that Lucius had also made contact with the ground, and a quieter thump a few seconds after that was the broom reaching ground-level. Lucius appeared to be unharmed, for he pulled himself into a sitting position before laying back down on the grass and stating with a weak chuckle, "Severus, I stand by what I said when you were a Hogwarts student: you shouldn't be allowed within ten miles of a broom. I think I saw my obituary flash before my eyes: Survived First War. Escaped from Azkaban. Killed by a tree."

Severus gave a weak smile in response. The two had barely stood up when a voice in the distance called out, "Who goes there?"

"Fellow servants of the Dark Lord," Lucius shouted in response. In the nearest clearing, Lucius and Severus found two men cloaked in Azkaban robes talking – one with wavy brown hair and a narrow face, and the other with dark hair and delicate features.

"Lucius, good to see you again," the first man grinned and energetically shook his hand.

"Glad to see you're in one piece, Rabastan," Lucius replied with a smile. He nodded towards the second man and politely added, "Good evening, Mulciber."

Mulciber nodded in greeting, and Rabastan gestured towards the empty clearing before saying, "When Bellatrix released us she said there was going to be a meeting here, but you're the only other people who have arrived so far."

"We were among the first to escape," Severus replied. "I'm certain more will be arriving soon."

"What was that racket when you two Apparated?" Mulciber interrupted, and Severus noticed he was nervously glancing around.

"Severus flew us into a tree," Lucius replied.

Mulciber visibly relaxed before snickering, "You flew into a tree? That's priceless, Snape; don't quit your day job."

"At least I _have_ a day job," Severus snapped in response.

Mulciber opened his mouth to retort, but their conversation was cut short by the sound of a loud _crack!_ and Rabastan and Lucius yelling in unison, "Who goes there?"

"Who do you think? Stop bein' so dramatic," Alecto grunted as she walked into the clearing with Avery. Her arm was slung around him, as though she was trying to support his weight but having difficulty, and Mulciber quickly strode towards them with a concerned frown.

"Is he injured badly?" Mulciber asked Alecto, helping Avery into a sitting position against one of the trees.

"I can talk myself, you know," Avery wheezed with a smile. "And I definitely broke something, but other than that I think I'll be okay."

Mulciber sat down next to Avery, and Rabastan politely asked the two new-comers, "Did you see if Rodolphus was close to escaping?"

"Dunno," Alecto replied. "Last I saw he was with Bellatrix, an' you know her. Me, I say run an' save your skin for another day, but she's not one to turn down a fight."

Another _crack!_ indicated the arrival of Amycus and Rookwood, and Amycus irritably greeted them by saying, "Way to abandon us to the Aurors."

Before Alecto could finish her response - a ruder version of "Don't complain" - Nott and Dolohov interrupted by Apparating into the clearing, and after that the rate of Apparating Death Eaters increased. Severus didn't recognize most of the escaped Death Eaters who appeared - a man with blond hair and broken glasses, a woman with grey hair and torn prisoners' robes, two men with brown hair that looked like brothers, a man with a long beard who was missing most of his teeth…

The steady stream of Death Eaters continued until Severus lost count of how many pairs of worn prison robes he had seen. With every _crack!_ of Apparation, Rabastan looked around hopefully, but it was only when there was almost three dozen Death Eaters already present that Rodolphus and Bellatrix finally appeared.

Rabastan heartily clapped Rodolphus on the back and said, "Long time no see," while Bellatrix strode towards Lucius.

"I see you're uninjured," she said in a bored tone. "Cissy will be happy."

Severus could hear Alecto speak over the many voices of the crowd, "That must be the last of 'em. So where's the Dark Lord? Do we need to owl him for him to remember his own meetings?"

Amycus snickered in response, but Severus could only hear scattered words from his response because it overlapped with the tens of other surrounding voices. He could simultaneously hear Rabastan asking Bellatrix if she had sustained any injuries in the break-out, in addition to hearing the two brothers he had seen Apparate together excitedly discussing life outside of Azkaban.

There was the sound of yet another person Apparating, and waves of silence immediately rippled through the crowd as Voldemort swept to the center of the forest clearing.

"How does freedom taste, my servants?" Voldemort's thin voice hissed across the group.

There was an appreciative roar of support from the escaped prisoners that was silenced by Voldemort speaking again.

"I reward those who remain loyal to me, and your freedom is only the first of those rewards," Voldemort began. "Those of you have proved your loyalty will be rewarded beyond imagination once we have regained our former power. The Ministry's lack of allegiance to Wizardkind is causing it to rot from the inside, and it is ready to crumble under the weight of its own corruption. But we will establish a new era, a golden era, one in which Wizards will take their rightful place."

The crowd cheered in approval, while Severus mentally gagged.

Voldemort continued, "My loyal servants, this will require great patience as we lay the appropriate strategies into place, and I ask you to place your faith in me. For many of you, the world will have drastically changed since your imprisonment. Your friends, family and loved ones from before your sentence may have since been deceived into believing that Mudbloods are our equals. It will be your responsibility to show them the truth."

The crowd was silent, hanging on every word as Voldemort deliberately paced in front of them.

"Now, those of you who have somewhere to stay in the British Isles where you will not risk capture should do so. Those of you who cannot stay in the British Isles will be crucial in our overtures to the Continent." The crowd began murmuring, and Voldemort loudly continued, "Those of you in the former group are dismissed. Those of you in the latter group come forward and make yourself known to me."

The escaped prisoners began talking more loudly, some of them clearly debating which group they belonged to. Rabastan edged towards Lucius with a hopeful grin and said, "Just think: if you let me stay at Malfoy Manor I could regale you with my wittiness every day."

"You are welcome to stay with us, but if you make any attempts at what you call wittiness I may be inclined to revoke my invitation," Lucius smirked.

Other Death Eaters were beginning to the walk to the front, and Severus could hear one of the brothers who had Apparated together say, "We could stay with T—"

Before being interrupted by the other brother, "No, he wouldn't let us."

After watching some of the escaped Death Eaters migrate towards the front, Severus bade Lucius goodbye and Disapparated to Hogsmeade.

As always, the walk back to the Hogwarts castle seemed bizarrely ordinary in comparison to the battle and Death Eater meeting. The adrenaline flowing through his veins from the battle had almost completely faded, and it was only when he reached his quarters that he noticed a dull, throbbing pain in his left arm. When he inspected his left forearm he found, much to his surprise, a bloody gash several inches long, and he silently supposed that adrenaline could act as quite the painkiller in the thick of battle. There was any number of moments where he could have been hit by a curse without realizing it.

Sighing, he started walking towards the main potions storage room from the entrance to his quarters. Whatever sort of curse had caused his wound, it was resisting simple healing charms. The main potions storage room was adjacent to an unused classroom in the dungeon and only a few feet wide on each side. Narrow shelves that Severus had to repeatedly charm just to keep them standing, lined the walls, and his own handwriting gazed back at him as he searched for a suitable healing potion. He had rolled his left sleeve up to his elbow to better examine the wound and was loosely shaking a nearly-empty flask that was supposed to contain the potion he needed, when a quiet knock disturbed the slightly ajar door.

"Snape?" Another knock swung the door open wider to reveal Colburn's face, and she took a step inside the room, while Severus hastily attempted to hide his wounded arm. "I heard you walking around the dungeons and thought I would ask if you wanted the remnants of the potion you brewed for my class today. To keep in storage or something." She gestured towards the rickety shelves with the small flask of purple liquid in her hand.

Having been the only Slytherin professor on the staff for a number of years, he had forgotten that all of the Slytherin professors' quarters were bunched together in one section of the dungeons. Close enough, evidently, for Colburn to have heard his footsteps. "Fine. Just set it down somewhere," he snapped. He had more immediate concerns right now than whether the storage room was perfectly organized.

"Thank you for brewing it for me." She politely gave a slight nod as she set the flask down on an empty shelf. She had nearly turned to leave when a surprised frown appeared on her features, and she took several more steps into the room. Severus hastily attempted to make his wounded arm appear even more inconspicuous, because he was far too tired to concoct a story for his injured his arm and then deal with any pitying expressions she might shoot him. "Are you bleeding?" she stated incredulously, glancing towards his partially hidden arm.

"Yes, Colburn, I'm bleeding," he viciously snapped in response, and when she didn't immediately leave the room as he had hoped, he thrust out his bleeding left arm, because if that wouldn't scare her into leaving him alone, nothing would.

Colburn's eyes flicked towards the Dark Mark on his arm and, recoiling, she stuttered, "That's a —"

"Dark Mark, yes," he victoriously crooned at her wide eyes. "And I would like to be left alone while I look for more potion to heal my wound." Her eyes glanced between the nearly-empty flask in his right hand, his Dark Mark, and his face, and Severus heaved a sigh of relief when she silently turned on her heel and left.

That he was a Death Eater was not exactly a secret. Nearly all of the staff knew, and it was normally only a matter of time before new staff members discovered such a fact. Colburn, evidently, had not yet heard any of the whispered rumors between the other professors, and revealing his Dark Mark had turned out to be a wonderfully simple way of breaking off unwanted social interactions. Now, at least, he could focus on finding a suitable potion for the gash on his left arm.

Hopefully searching the shelves for a near substitute, or perhaps a misplaced bottle that had missed his organizing hands, he barely heard the door open again. A surprised expression formed on his face when he looked up to see Colburn as she shoved a flask of the needed healing potion into his right hand. Her eyes intently met his for several seconds, stonily scrutinizing, before she turned and left without a word.

…

A/N: Sorry for the wait between updates! In RL news, I recently started a new job and am still getting settled in, so the next update will come in about two weeks. In the meantime, I'd love to hear what you thought about this chapter :-)

Many thanks to kci47 for beta-reading and greatly helping me with this chapter!


	13. Ch12: Of Death Eaters and Giantesses

**Chapter 12: Of Death Eaters and Giantesses**

Severus winced when he picked up the goblet of pumpkin juice. Doing something as small as trying to eat dinner was enough to remind him that his arm was still sore from being injured in the Azkaban break-out yesterday, and he directed an annoyed glance down the professor's table. The healing potion Colburn had given him last night had been helpful, but there was now the matter of why she had given it to him. He intended to learn the answer to that as soon as possible and, more importantly, whether she had done so out of some hidden support for the Death Eaters. She was not among the professors seated, though, and if her failure to appear for breakfast and lunch was any indication, Severus doubted she would show for dinner either.

After he finished dinner, he grudgingly decided that he would have to seek her out. He made a quick detour to his quarters to pick up his copy of the Daily Prophet – he suspected showing Colburn the Daily Prophet would prove both informative and amusing – before making his way to Colburn's office and sharply knocking on her door.

She opened the door with a single raised eyebrow and politely said, "Good evening, Snape. What brings you here?"

Severus nonchalantly strode into her office and took a seat without bothering to wait for an invitation. She frowned, and he continued in a bored tone, "I heard that you subtracted an especially large number of House points from Gryffindor today."

She returned to her desk chair before lightly replying, "I subtracted an especially large number of House points from all of the Houses today. My students were being particularly inattentive."

"I suppose they _do_ have a lot to gossip about today. Have you read the Daily Prophet?" he continued, holding up the newspaper.

Colburn's face darkened, and she looked away to straighten the quill and small stacks of parchment on her desk. "Yes, I have, and I would prefer to not waste my time talking about it."

"Now, why would you say that?" Severus said with a smirk. He folded the newspaper to the front page and exaggeratedly began reading, " 'Mass Death Eater Break-Out from Azkaban.' I don't think I've seen a headline in such large print since the Dark Lord's return last June."

"I already read that article," she interrupted.

"Look, the article has a whole page dedicated to wanted posters of the Death Eaters who escaped. It's even alphabetically organized by last name," Severus purposefully continued. "How convenient, we can just look under the letter 'C' and see -"

"I _said_, I already read that article."

"Harold Carter, Clarence Clark…Why, what's this? The next two escaped Death Eaters listed are named Matar Colburn and Seginus Colburn. I didn't know Colburn was such a common name." Severus smirked knowingly at the growing scowl on Colburn's face. "Unless, perhaps you are related?"

"Is this the only reason you wished to talk with me?" she replied irritably.

"It even looks like there's a family resemblance between you and these two men," Severus tauntingly continued, holding up the newspaper and pointing towards the picture on the right. The bearded man in the picture was glaring at the camera and tightly gripping his Azkaban identification number. "You and the one on the right – Seginus? – have matching scowls. Although I suppose you have less facial hair than he does."

"Given that you are a Death Eater yourself, I don't see why you find it interesting that two of my brothers are Death Eaters," Colburn frowned. "Besides, this isn't new information - they were arrested during the First War, after all."

"Not new to you, perhaps, but it is of no wonder that the students in your classes were so talkative today." Severus waved his hand and dramatically added, "Of course the students will tell all of their mummies and daddies this fascinating new piece of information, and mummy and daddy won't be happy to find out their dearest so-and-so is being taught by a Death Eater's relative, will they? Might as well resign now and save yourself the trouble of being fired later."

"It is my brothers who are Death Eaters, not me," Colburn said, sitting up a bit straighter in her chair. "You can put your resume away, because I'm not going to resign."

"Pity." If Colburn had given him the healing potion because she was a Death Eater sympathizer, it had yet to show, and Severus decided to take a more blunt approach. "It may interest you to know that I saw your brothers briefly yesterday; they are apparently going to aid the Death Eaters' missions on the Continent."

"Why would that interest me? I have no plans to help them or any other Death Eaters," Colburn sharply replied. Severus raised an eyebrow, and Colburn looked away to fidget with the quill on her desk. "That goes for you, also. I don't know why you chose to reveal your Dark Mark to me, but I hope you are aware that I don't support the Death Eaters."

"What a shame," Severus dramatically intoned. He sarcastically added, "Here I expected to receive gratuitous amounts of thanks for assisting with the Azkaban break-out, seeing as your brothers were two of the escapees – "

"I don't even like Seginus and Matar," she snapped. "They're Death Eaters; they deserved their sentences."

"I am also a Death Eater. Do you think I deserve life in Azkaban?" Severus replied, his eyes glittering as he watched for her reaction.

Colburn didn't reply immediately, but instead deliberately straightened the quill she had been fidgeting with earlier, before reconsidering and setting it down next to an ink well. "Has it taken you this long to realize I could turn you into the Ministry for being a Death Eater?"

If Colburn still believed that she could turn him in, then she was clearly unaware of his position as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix, and he couldn't help but smirk when he next spoke, "I suppose you could try to report me to the Ministry for being a Death Eater, but I doubt you would get very far."

"I wouldn't get very far? Are you threatening me?" she said incredulously. Bristling, she continued, "For your information, I don't plan to turn you in. Clearly you are of no harm to the students, and I don't particularly fancy your Death Eater friends being after my head for betraying one of their kind."

"I had no idea you were so afraid of the Death Eaters," Severus drawled.

"I'm a pureblood who grew up in Slytherin. I'm not afraid of Death Eaters; I just have a very real understanding of how dangerous they can be, and I rather enjoy being alive," Colburn replied evenly.

"I see." Nearly satisfied in his search for knowledge, Severus stood to leave before nonchalantly adding, "Although you were lying earlier."

"What?" Colburn jumped slightly, knocking over the inkwell on her desk.

"You said you would never help a Death Eater, including me," he replied, his hand on the door handle. "Yet you gave me the healing potion yesterday, when I was injured. It wasn't even poisoned and, trust me, I checked."

An honestly baffled expression appeared on Colburn's face. "Why would I poison you?"

"Never hurts to be safe," Severus replied with a sneer.

"I don't dislike you _that_ much. I gave you the healing potion because you're a human being, not because you're a Death Eater," Colburn said, waving her wand to clean up the spilled ink. She sarcastically continued, "If you would prefer that your arm was still bleeding, though, I could easily assist your return to such a state."

"What a touching offer," he replied dryly. "Unfortunately, I have work I should be doing, such as brewing more healing potions."

He left Colburn's office and soon began his descent to the potions storeroom in the dungeons. On the one hand, it appeared that Colburn did not support the Death Eaters. On the other hand, in that conversation she had treated him with the exact same manner of detached professionalism as she had before learning he was a Death Eater. All of the other professors, after learning he was a Death Eater, had given him a wider berth and been less likely to make eye contact with him, but Colburn did not seem to care.

It was odd, to say the least.

It was almost a little bit nice, but the word had barely appeared in his mind before he hastily banished it.

When Severus finally reached the storeroom, he decided to check his records and see if he was low on any other potions before he began brewing a replacement for the healing potion he had used last night.

According to his records, the stock of Wiggenweld potion was beginning to run low, and he quickly made a mental note to buy more asphodels when he had time. He had almost finished skimming the record book when he noticed his record for the healing potion he had needed last night. Although he had not been able to find any of that potion in the storeroom, his records very clearly showed there was supposed to be one flask remaining, and he frowned as he scrutinized the record more clearly.

If he was supposed to have one flask on hand, where had it gone? Although the potions in this storeroom did not technically belong to him – they could be used by any of the Hogwarts faculty, as long as they informed him beforehand – because he brewed the potions and kept the records, he was rather possessive of them. He briskly set about taking inventory of the storeroom, only to discover that three other potions had gone missing: a temperature regulation potion, a lactic de- acidosis potion, and a coagulation potion. While Madame Pomfrey occasionally took healing potions without asking, she only did so in case of emergency, and she was normally organized enough to tell Severus afterwards.

After double-checking his records, Severus slammed the record book shut with a frustrated hiss. He was far too organized to have lost the potions to a clerical error, and it seemed highly unlikely that Pomfrey would have had four separate emergencies she forgot to inform him of. This did not answer where the potions had gone though, and he angrily began straightening up the racks of potions while hoping to have some stroke of insight.

He had almost finished neatening the racks, when he came across an empty flask that was of the same style as the rest of his potion flasks. Unlike his meticulously categorized potions, though, this flask had no label, and it took him a moment to realize that it was the flask Colburn had handed him last night; after using the healing potion, he had set it down without bothering to return it. He happened to glance between the flask in his hand and the shelves of potions, when a thought struck him, and he was soon hastily flipping through his records once again.

* * *

><p>Liseli sighed as she looked between the two pieces of parchment in front of her desk. They were both letters and while one of them was a few days old, having arrived the day after the Azkaban break-out, the other one had arrived only that morning. After a moment's hesitation, she picked up the older one and quickly re-read it again.<p>

_Liseli,_ the neatly cursive handwriting began.

_I thought I would let you know that Seginus owled me recently asking what you were doing nowadays. I don't know why he asked, but his tone seemed a bit unfriendly. I haven't told Seginus you're working at Hogwarts, but it is possible he heard as such from somewhere else, so I thought I would let you know. Being a Death Eater, I doubt Seginus thinks very highly of Dumbledore or of people who associate with him. I know I get along with Seginus only a bit better than you do, but if you're worried that he might bother you I can try telling him to leave you alone._

_-Tarazet_

She idly folded the corner of the parchment as she debated yet again how she should reply. She was still annoyed with Tarazet for visiting her at Hogwarts, but the passage of time and grudging reflection had let her accept that it was unlikely he had visited Hogwarts with the goal of putting her career in jeopardy. It would be simple enough to write a short response to his letter thanking him for the information, but that somehow felt insufficient. What else she should write, though, she was unsure. A reprimand? An apology?

She shook her head and, deciding to consider her response at a later time, set Tarazet's letter to the side and pulled the letter from that morning towards her. It was a very brief letter from Hagrid commenting that he had not seen her in the Great Hall for the past few days and inviting her over for tea after classes. Liseli had been making an effort to avoid the other Hogwarts residents - at least some of them were still gossiping about her brothers' Azkaban escapes, and she thought they might forget about it more quickly if she made herself less visible – but she had not expected anyone to notice and comment.

Deciding that tea could be a pleasant break from work, and that Hagrid did not seem like the gossiping type, she soon began walking towards his cabin.

"Professor Colburn!" Hagrid cheerfully greeted her upon her arrival. "I wasn't sure if yeh had gotten my owl, good to see yeh did."

"Of course I did. It was very hospitable of you to invite me over," she greeted him with a polite smile. Hagrid went bustling around the cabin's kitchen, pouring water into a tea kettle, clanging it down on the metal-topped stove, and pulling out a small plate of stale biscuits from a corner of one of the cupboards; Liseli was fairly convinced they were the exact same plate of teeth-breaking biscuits he had been offering to guests since the beginning of the school year.

"I was hopin' yeh'd come over, 'cause I noticed yeh'd been hiding—" Liseli mentally corrected him that she wasn't hiding, she was doing damage control "—an' I just wanted to offer my support, 'cause I went through somethin' similar a few years ago."

Her voice had an air of disbelieving incredulity as she spoke. "Really?"

"Well, not identical," he awkwardly shifted his weight before grabbing the now-boiled tea as a distraction and placing two mugs in front of them. "But a few years ago there was a Daily Prophet article announcin' ter the whole world that my mum was a Giantess, an' that didn't go over well."

Liseli nearly spit out her first swallow of the tea. Hagrid was half-giant? To say he was on the large side would have been an understatement, but giants were known for their senseless violence and undeniably murderous tendencies. Then again, she supposed she wasn't in a position to be judging people based on the murderous tendencies of their relatives.

"I didn't know that," she said conversationally, instead. "It looks like it must have blown over."

He gave a solid-looking nod. "It did. An' I'm sure this will, too. Yer too nice to be related to people like that."

"Thanks, Hagrid," she gave a slight smile at his confident words, before swiveling her head towards the door at a knocking sound.

"I didn't invite anyone else over," Hagrid stated after a moment. "But sometimes students come over after classes, like yeh did just now."

It turned out to be Harry, Hermione and Ron, which wasn't terribly surprising in and of itself; Liseli had previously gotten the impression they were friends with Hagrid. The three students gave their greetings to Hagrid before noticing her presence, and Harry gave a small "Oh," before awkwardly looking away; she vaguely recalled something along the lines of "Five points from Gryffindor" for him reading the Daily Prophet article during her class.

"I was just tellin' Professor Colburn here 'bout how my mum was a Giantess," Hagrid said loudly. "And how that just goes to show yeh can't judge someone based on family."

Liseli couldn't help but smile; if he was trying to be subtle, he was failing spectacularly. It seemed to have the intended effect, though, for the three students politely greeted her with only a residual awkwardness.

"I mean, I suppose the same is true about Sirius and his family," Harry stated, more to Hagrid and his friends than to her directly, but a surprised frown formed on her face.

"Sirius Black?" she repeated.

"Yeah, he was my Godfather." Harry swallowed, a dash of sadness to his face before he continued, "His whole family was full of pureblood supremacy — his own brother even became a Death Eater — but Sirius was nothing like them."

"I know, or well, I've heard that before, I mean," she hastily corrected herself. Regulus and Tarazet had been best friends for nearly the entirety of their Hogwarts career, but she wasn't about to admit that to people who thought poorly of Regulus.

"So, well, it just goes to show," Harry trailed off, before continuing, "Something like that with your family, professor?"

From what she had known of Sirius – Regulus's brash older brother - she didn't particularly like comparing herself to him. Given her audience, though, she quickly decided such a comparison could be beneficial, and she replied with a slight smile, "Something like that."

…

A/N: The next update should come in about two weeks :) Many thanks to kci47 for beta-reading!


	14. Ch13: The Order of the Phoenix

_Previously in Chapter 12:_ After recovering from aiding the Death Eater's mission to break their imprisoned comrades out of Azkaban, Snape realized that some of the healing potions in his store room were mysteriously disappearing.

**Chapter 13: The Order of the Phoenix**

"I thought OWLs were supposed to be the hard school year, isn't sixth year supposed to be easier?" Ron said, tossing one of his textbooks onto his orange bedspread at the Burrow. It was the weekend, and Hermione, Harry and Ron had all decided to go home to visit Ron's family. "More importantly, why on earth did I sign up for NEWT level potions?" Ron finished.

"It'll be useful to have on your transcript when you graduate," Hermione said, attempting to comfort him.

"Yes, but if I kill myself before the end of the year just to avoid any more of Snape's pop quizzes, it'll defeat the purpose," Ron replied. "Actually, scratch that. If I kill _Snape_ before the end of the year —"

"You're telling me," Harry added with an annoyed sigh.

"Oh yeah, Snape held you after class on Friday, didn't he? What was that about?" Ron asked. He cheerfully continued, "If it was a low-grade notice I should've been right next to you."

"It wasn't a low-grade notice, at least not yet. I think Snape just likes making me miserable," Harry said bitterly. "He was accusing me of stealing potions from his storeroom. I didn't even know he _had_ a potions storeroom."

"Well, if he used Legilimency like you said he normally does, then that should be cleared up at least?" Hermione offered.

"I'm not letting that git into my mind, even if I am innocent. It's the principle of the thing," Harry said, slamming his potions textbook shut. "I just don't get why he always accuses me, besides the fact that clearly if there's any wrong-doing in the entire school, it's always _my_ fault."

"Mate, I hate to tell you this," Ron said, clapping a hand on Harry's shoulder, "but I don't think Snape likes you."

"Yeah, I've gathered that, somehow," Harry said with a small laugh. "I told him that if there were missing potions I suspected Trelawney. If I'm lucky, then maybe my two least favorite professors will finish each other off in a duel. I can hope, right?"

"Trelawney'll defeat Snape in a duel when Nifflers can fly. She'd just wave tea leaves at him and say he was going to tragically die in four months from a Doxy bite," Ron snorted. "Although with NEWT level Potions, I'm beginning to miss Divination a bit. Remember when we could just write down that you were going to die a horrible death, Harry, and get an 'O'? Good times."

Harry smiled. "Yeah, good times. Although given how much I enjoy our free periods, I can't say I miss having the extra classes. I don't know how you're even surviving right now, Hermione; you're taking more classes than we are."

"They're all very interesting," Hermione replied earnestly. She grinned before adding, "This may come as a shock, but even History of Magic is interesting right now."

Ron accidentally dropped his ink bottle, while Harry's jaw dropped. Ron finally said, "Binns? Not possible. You must be Confunded or something."

"I'm as surprised as you are." Hermione cleaned up the spilled ink with a wave of her wand before adding, "I think it's because we've reached modern day. Well, relatively modern — the 1940s."

"What's so great about 1940s history?" Harry asked dully, as though just the word 'history' was enough to put him to sleep.

"That's when Grindelwald was in power, isn't it?" Ron jumped in.

"Exactly," Hermione nodded. "It actually seems relevant since I can compare what we're learning about Grindelwald to what we know about Voldemort. Grindelwald's movement was more developed than Voldemort's is right now. Grindelwald was cruel, but he also made an effort to win popular support."

"He terrorized Continental Europe, how could that possibly win support?" Ron exclaimed. "I remember my grandmum mentioning how afraid she was that Grindelwald's forces might take over the Ministry of Magic."

"Of course a lot of people didn't like Grindelwald, but a surprisingly large number did, probably because of all the propaganda he put out. He flooded invaded regions with posters, radio shows, parades - anything to try and convince the people that they were better off than they used to be." Hermione continued in an interested tone, "It didn't just focus on the ruling-over-Muggles aspect, either. They put out propaganda arguing that Grindelwald's rule was resulting in a return to family values and improving the economy. They even spread rumors that Grindelwald could destroy unhappiness itself — that he could kill Dementors, which is rubbish, of course."

"I think we need to worry more about how many people Voldemort's going to kill, and how we can stop him, than about him claiming he's improving the economy," Harry replied with a small smile.

"The economy was just an example of propaganda," Hermione rolled her eyes. "But I do agree with you, Harry. If we can stop the Death Eaters and Voldemort, then we don't have anything else to worry about."

"I was actually thinking recently," Harry began, "I think we should try again to join the Order of the Phoenix. I know they only accept wizards and witches who have come of age, but maybe we can at least sit in on the meetings, or otherwise help out."

"I'm all for it," Ron said, "but good luck convincing my mum to let her 'ickle Ronniekins' join. She wasn't exactly open to the idea last summer."

"I'm seventeen," Hermione abruptly blurt out as the realization struck her. "I'm legally an adult, so I can join the Order now. And if they let me join, then they have to let both of you join, too, right? It's only fair. We have the same amount of schooling and if we stick together, that's definitely safer than if I'm alone."

"That could work," Harry excitedly replied. "And I know that Dumbledore is finally treating me like an adult. I mean, at least considering that he's been sharing Pensieve memories with me about Voldemort's past."

"Yes, exactly," she replied, before pausing an instant and adding, "Harry, did I tell you I looked through some of my textbooks recently, after you first mentioned your Pensieve lessons?"

"Okay, and?"

"I wasn't able to find any information on Pensieves," Hermione replied with a disappointed sigh. "It seems like an interesting piece of magic, but it must be very rare."

Harry shrugged, "I'm sure the Pensieve's reliable. I don't think Dumbledore would be using it if it wasn't, and it doesn't surprise me that he'd own some rare objects."

Hermione nodded, before cheerily clapping her hands together. "Anyway, I guess we have a plan about how we'll ask to join the Order. And they generally have meetings Saturday night, don't they? So we can ask then."

"I thought they just meet whenever there was an attack somewhere, to fend it off?" Harry asked.

"They do, but attacks are on Saturday nights so frequently they have a standing meeting then," Ron said. "Fred and George complain that You-Know-Who's goal is to destroy their social lives."

Harry laughed in spite of himself. "I can imagine the Death Eaters now: 'Oh Dark Lord of all that is evil and dark. Please don't schedule an attack this Saturday — I have a really hot date then.' "

Ron continued in a falsely serious tone, "You know what we should do? We should send You-Know-Who a nice little handwritten note saying 'If you're going to terrorize the world, could you do it on a Thursday or something? Because I gotta say, the whole Saturday thing is putting a damper on my social life.'"

"I bet that's why Voldemort has been having so many attacks recently. He doesn't have a social life, so he's taking it out on everybody else," Harry said.

"Okay, well, now that we know why attacks are always on Saturday evenings, we can be sure to tell everyone else when we see them tonight," Hermione laughed.

By the time evening finally rolled around, the Burrow was filled with the sound of quietly chatting voices. Most of the assembled Order members were sitting around the kitchen table or leaning against the kitchen countertops and talking with each other while waiting for other members to arrive. Hermione wondered why the Order met in the kitchen instead of the slightly more spacious living room, but she suspected it had something to do with how the Weasleys' clock was not visible from most of the kitchen. All of the hands on the Weasleys' clock were permanently pointing towards "Mortal Peril", and both Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were facing away from the living room from their position standing in the kitchen.

"Alright, alright, I guess everyone who's going to be here is here," Moody announced, and the Order members filling the crowded kitchen quieted down. "There's probably going to be an attack tonight. It's just a matter of finding out where it is before too much damage has been done, so let's discuss other plans until Voldemort so rudely interrupts." He let out a bark of a laugh with his last words, before continuing, "Does anyone have any announcements they want to start with?"

"I do," Hermione said from her position near the back of the kitchen with Ron and Harry. "I want to join the Order."

"You can't join the Order, you're not of age yet. Next?" Moody said.

"I am of age," she quickly corrected him. "I turned seventeen on September 19th."

Moody opened his mouth before snapping it shut again and surveying her with his whizzing light blue eye. "Well, then. We'll vote on it. Everyone who thinks we should allow Granger to join —"

"And Ron and Harry want to join, too," she quickly interrupted.

"Don't tell me all of your birthdays were in September," Moody growled, but there was a hint of amusement to his voice.

"No, but we have the same amount of schooling as Hermione," Ron stated proudly. "And we held our own against Death Eaters in the Ministry last summer."

"Besides, the sooner we can start getting a grasp of what we're up against, the better prepared we'll be when we have to fight Voldemort," Harry added, steadily looking at Moody as he spoke.

Moody was appraising the three of them with a proud look on his face. "Alright, let's vote on it!"

"Ron is only _sixteen," _Mrs. Weasley nearly shrieked, looking as though she was about to explode from containing herself."And so is Harry, and Hermione isn't even out of school yet. They're only teenagers and it's not safe for them to go gallivanting around the middle of battles, especially since Harry is such a target now."

Moody's expression remained unconcerned. "Alright, any other thoughts before we vote?"

"Alastor!" Mrs. Weasley fumed. "Those weren't just suggestions — Arthur, back me up here."

"Hermione is of age," Mr. Weasley began thoughtfully. "We can't prevent her from joining the Order, unless we think she's a spy for the Death Eaters, and I gather she's not. Ron will be of age in a few months and Harry a few months after that and I'll bet an arm and a leg they're going to be clamoring to join on their seventeenth birthdays." Mr. Weasley took his glasses off and cleaned them with his sleeve before continuing, "I think what would make the most sense is if we let all three of them join — but only with a partial membership. They still have their studies to take care of, after all, but if they're around for some of the meetings and get to see a few of the battles firsthand, it'll help prepare them."

"I think that'd be an okay compromise," Harry said, and his two friends nodded.

"Alright," Moody stated, "Let's vo — "

"What about Dumbledore?" Mrs. Weasley interrupted again. "Shouldn't he have a say in this? And what about the other members who aren't here right now? Like Mundungus, and Remus, and Snape, and —"

Tonks, sitting quietly at the kitchen table, gently interrupted, "Molly, Dumbledore's always traveling nowadays, and we don't need his approval to induct new members, anyway."

Moody continued speaking, gesturing towards the three teens with a gnarled hand, "Alright, let's vote if these three should be inducted into the Order of the Phoenix as part-time members."

Most of the hands went up, Mr. Weasley's hesitatingly and Mrs. Weasley's not at all, but before Hermione could count the percentage voting in favor, Moody had turned towards the three of them. With a contortion of his scarred face that Hermione imagined was supposed to be a smile, Moody said, "Welcome to the Order."

Tonks immediately added, "If there is an attack tonight, don't engage any Death Eaters. Just try to usher away any Muggles in the area. When the Muggles see magic a lot of them stop and stare."

"You lot will all need to stick together during the attack, also," Moody added. "Always safest to have someone else nearby."

"Stay by an older Order member, too," Tonks continued. "That way we can bail you out if necessary."

Hermione, Harry and Ron mutely nodded and periodically said "Okay", "Uh huh" and "Gotcha" as more pieces of advice were thrown at them by the numerous people sitting around the room.

"And don't try — oh," Tonks cut herself off as a glowing white squirrel with pointed ears flew through the wall.

"Word is something's up at Trafalgar Square," the Patronus spoke, and Mundungus Fletcher's voice filled the room.

"Oh, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, a worried look on her face as she approached him. "Just let me — stay still for a second — " She tapped her wand on top of his head, and he felt a tickling warmth followed by the feeling of pins and needles, as though somehow his scalp had managed to fall asleep.

"Brilliant, Mum!" Ron laughed and Harry patted the top of his head, trying to figure out what she had changed, while Hermione also let out a cheery laugh.

"What is it?" Harry asked, as the people standing around him all gained a smile or laughed out loud when they looked at him.

"It's so you're not as recognizable," Mrs. Weasley sighed. "Red is just the first color I thought of —"

"Not just red, Mum, _Weasley_ red," Ron grinned. "With your hair that shade of red now, Harry, I think you could qualify as the long-lost eighth Weasley child."

"Hermione, you can side-along Apparate to Trafalgar Square with me," Tonks interrupted, gesturing to how other Order members were beginning to Disapparate. Just before they Apparated, Tonks added, "You'll see, but the Death Eater's main goal is to cause chaos. Just do your best and stay safe."

Hermione had not been to Trafalgar Square since she was ten and still living an ordinary Muggle life with her parents. Her parents, ever determined to sharpen their daughter's mind, took her to somewhere of educational interest every weekend, and she could still remember holding her mother's hand in Trafalgar Square as crowds of people bustled past and -

Someone was screaming.

Hermione jumped out of her reverie. The crowds in Trafalgar square were not lazily milling about as they had that sunny weekend when she was a child. The vast majority of the Muggles present were leaving the square - either running, hurriedly walking, or strolling with a cautiously curious expression on their face as they looked behind them - but, much to Hermione's surprise, some Muggles _weren't_ leaving. Colorful sparks of light were reflecting into the air from the Death Eaters' spells, and some of the Muggles near the edges of the crowd were watching the light show with interested expressions.

With fearful expressions and hasty gestures, she attempted to convey the danger of the situation to people who had never heard of magic or the Death Eaters. It seemed to work for the most part, but Hermione felt more heartened when another group of Aurors appeared after what felt like at least twenty minutes. Kingsley was among the fresh group of Aurors, and Hermione noticed that he quickly joined Tonks in her duel against a masked Death Eater. Temporarily distracted, Hermione couldn't help but think of how the rhythm to their duel reminded her of a perfectly choreographed sword fight - an offensive spell here, a dodge there, a step, a shield charm…With a jab of his wand, Kingsely sent an arc of what looked like golden dust soaring towards the Death Eater, but the spell was interrupted when Tonks elbowed Kingsley in the stomach.

Well, it had almost looked perfectly choreographed.

Kingsley quickly began casting another spell, but their duel was cut short by a magnified voice announcing, "DEATH EATERS: RETREAT AND SCATTER."

The Death Eater whom Tonks and Kingsley were dueling made a bowing motion with his wand arm before Disapparating with a loud _crack!_ Other Death Eaters began Disapparating at the same time, and Trafalgar Square was soon relatively quiet.

Tonks hurriedly walked towards Hermione and said, "Alright, ready to go back?"

"Wait, aren't we staying to help the Muggles? Or repair the square or something?" Hermione blurted out.

"Can't," Tonks shook her head. "It's the Ministry Obliviators job to wipe the Muggles' memories and sort out the aftermath of these attacks, and they get snippy if Aurors try to help."

They quickly arrived back at the Burrow and were soon followed by Kingsley side-along Apparating with Harry. They were waiting for the other remaining members when Hermione turned towards Tonks and said, "Why did the Death Eater you were dueling do this?" She quickly mimicked the flourish the Death Eater had done with his hand at the end of the duel.

"Oh, that Death Eater was Snape," Tonks replied nonchalantly.

"Snape was there?" Harry said incredulously.

"Yeah. He does that weird sort of gesture, sometimes. I think he does it because he figures if he does it consistently enough then we'll be able to tell it's him by that alone. Sometimes it works better than others, _Kingsley_," Tonks added in a gently chiding tone.

"Pardon?" Kingsley said, turning his attention to their conversation.

"You know, when you were trying to arrest Snape back in Trafalgar Square," Tonks teased.

"Is that who we were dueling?" Kingsley said in a lightly surprised tone.

"Yes, why do you think I elbowed you?"

"If you must know, I seem to recall that you're rather clumsy - "

"I'm not _that_ clumsy," Tonks said exasperatedly. She turned back to Hermione and continued, "Anyway, speaking of arresting Death Eaters, you know that spell you saw, with the fine golden grains? In case you were wondering, it's what we use to keep Death Eaters from moving so we can arrest them. It's not perfect because anybody can undo it, but it takes long enough to undo that it works pretty well if we can get to them quickly."

"What happens if you don't get to them quickly?" Hermione asked.

"Sometimes another Death Eater will come along and Disapparate with them. It cancels out the work we've put into trying to arrest them so it's annoying," Tonks said with a shrug.

"This is relevant only for those Aurors who actually try to arrest Death Eater," Kingsley added in a somber tone. "With the start of the Second War there has been an ugly trend in which some Aurors seem to care less about arresting Death Eaters than about injuring or killing them. It's very hard to control, though, because legally if someone attempts to use lethal force against an Auror they can reciprocate in kind."

" 'Which is why we need to change the law such that Aurors can only use lethal force if there is no equally feasible alternative, including silencing, stunning and disarming spells,' " Tonks recited in a mock formal voice before grinning and looking up at Kingsley. "Well, did I get it right?"

Kingsley's lips twitched into a small smile. "Perhaps I have told you my ideas for legal reform too often, Tonks."

"Either that or I just memorize word-for-word what everyone tells me," Tonks replied, winking.

After sitting quietly for a few moments, Harry said, "Tonks, is Snape at all of these Death Eater attacks?"

"Most of them. Why?" Tonks replied.

"Does he actually do anything to help the Order during them?" Harry said, a hint of rising anger to his voice.

"Well, he can't really. It'd blow his cover," Tonks said with a shrug. "There was one time where I was way over my head in a duel with some Death Eater, and he came along and told the other Death Eater that he would take over dueling me, so there was that. It was nice, but he can't really do anything more obvious than that."

"Awfully convenient, isn't it?" Harry muttered under his breath.

"Well, it does make some sense, Harry," Hermione said after a moment's thought. "Maybe if it's a matter of life and death he tries to step in, but otherwise he figures Order members can handle it themselves."

"I suppose," Harry said, but he didn't seem convinced, and their conversation was cut off by the other Order members finally beginning to return from Trafalgar Square.

…

A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating; hopefully this chapter being longer than normal makes up for it, and the next update will hopefully come in about two and a half weeks.

Many thanks to kci47 for beta-reading!


	15. Ch14: Pensieves and Missing Potions

_Previously in Chapter 13:_ Harry, Ron, and Hermione discussed Harry's lessons with Dumbledore, and how Hermione has been unable to find any information on Pensieves in her textbooks. Afterwards, the three of them officially joined the Order of the Phoenix as part time members and helped defend Muggles during a Death Eater attack where they saw Snape.

**Chapter 14: Pensieves and Missing Potions**

"Today we will be starting a new unit," Liseli addressed her class of sixth years. The students were mostly attentive, except for a few distracted whispers and one student who was impatiently looking at the clock; Monday afternoon classes seemed to have that sort of effect on her students. "Our newest unit will be dueling. While dueling is one of the best applications of Defense Against the Dark Arts, I hope you will treat it with respect. Now, let's start by making a list of dueling spells that we already know. Class?"

"_Expelliarmus_," Harry stated barely a second after raising his hand.

"_Petrificus Totalus_," another student blurted out.

"_Stupefy_!"

The Stinging Hex!"

"Bat Bogey Hex," Ron added.

Harry laughed before loudly whispering to his friend. "And just how familiar are you with that one, Ron?"

"Now, what about protective curses?" Liseli said after the class had finished calling out spells.

The class fell comparatively quiet. "Well, there's _Protego_," Hermione finally offered when it seemed as though no one in the class was going to say anything.

"Yes, that's a nice, general-purpose one, but it's not particularly strong. Any others?" The class remained silent, and even the hints of whispering disappeared. "In that case let's start today's lesson with protective charms. There are three main ways to protect yourself against an incoming spell." Liseli's voice took on a more pedagogical tone as cursive ribbons of chalk leapt onto the blackboard and transformed themselves into looping words.

"First, you can block the spell. _Protego_ is a prime example of this." The chalk continued curving itself into words.

"Second, you can redirect oncoming curses. Many spells inherently track towards high concentrations of magic. This is normally the magic inherent in your blood as a witch or wizard. However, with incantations like _Suivo_ you can cause the curse to track towards and hit your spell, thus missing your body."

"Third, you can deflect other curses, with an incantation such as _Reflicado_. This is similar to blocking a curse, but instead of your spell clashing with the curse, your spell acts as a repellant that steers the curse away from you. Can anyone tell me the disadvantage of this?"

Neville frowned and looked up from his notes. "But what happens if you're standing next to someone?"

"Exactly," Liseli nodded. "If you happen to be standing near an ally, it may be a…suboptimal position for them to be in." Liseli spoke for a while longer, outlining further details about the theory behind defensive spells before she finally said, "Now, let's have you all break into pairs to practice the three different types of defensive charms. But do use easily reversible curses," she quickly added. Madame Pomfrey would be less than pleased if her class filled the entire Hospital Wing with students.

Thankfully, most of the students chose to use _Expelliarmus_ or _Stupefy_, and Liseli carefully began strolling between the pairs of practicing students to offer pieces of advice, moving even more carefully when a stunning spell barely missed her.

"If you're trying to perform _Suivo_, the angle is actually more like this," Liseli delicately interrupted Harry to adjust his wand angle, but it seemed that Ron had already begun to cast a spell, for it hit Harry immediately.

"Ow," Harry commented lightly, shaking his hand where the hex had made contact. Ugly-looking boils were beginning to quickly pop up and multiply on his knuckles.

"Sorry, mate!" Ron blurt out. "I didn't see, so I started casting — and, well, yeah."

"Boil hex?" Liseli said as she examined Harry's hand before shooting Ron a stern look. "I said easily reversible curses; the boil hex requires a cream for recovery. You'll have to visit Madame Pomfrey, Harry."

Ron gave Harry another sheepishly apologetic look, while the latter gave a small wave goodbye and began walking to the hospital wing. Thankfully, the rest of the class passed without incident, and as the students trickled out of the classroom after the bell, Liseli silently congratulated herself. Considering she had essentially given the students permission to hex each other, it could have turned out quite a bit worse.

Having finished her last class for the day, Liseli quickly decided to pay Hagrid a visit. After Hagrid's gesture of friendship when her brothers had been unmasked as Death Eaters, she had begun chatting with him and visiting his cabin more frequently.

She had barely left for the grounds when she noticed Snape walking towards her classroom.

"I saw Potter heading towards the sick ward from your classroom," Snape drawled, looking thoroughly bored by the topic of conversation that he had chosen. "Dare I hope his own arrogance led to mortal injury?"

Liseli gave Snape a slightly quizzical look. If he disliked Harry so much, why was he taking the effort to inquire after his health? The thought that perhaps Snape did actually care about his students, albeit in a very poorly demonstrated way, vaguely occurred to her. "Harry will be fine. His friend Ron accidentally hit him with a boil curse when I interrupted to correct his defensive technique," she replied.

"Incompetence on Potter's part, then. Utterly unsurprising. I must say, I am impressed you managed to send him to the Hospital Wing after only a few months. Here I've been teaching him for six years, and I have yet to accomplish such a feat," Snape continued in a bored tone.

"I see," Liseli replied uncertainly. "Is this the only reason you wished to speak with me?"

"No. I actually intended to speak with you over the weekend, but I couldn't seem to find you."

"I leave the school on the weekends sometimes because I've kept my living arrangements from before I moved to Hogwarts. I wasn't sure I would like living inside of the castle," Liseli replied neutrally.

"Fascinating," Snape said flatly. "I would prefer to not waste any more of my time so tell me, Colburn, what do you know about my potions storeroom?"

"Why are you asking me about your storeroom? Surely you know more about your storeroom than I do."

"Do you know under what circumstances someone can take a potion from that storeroom?" Snape said, his eyes glittering as he watched her reaction.

Liseli frowned. "Hogwarts staff can use those potions if they inform you, or write it down somewhere, or something like that. I'm afraid I haven't had any need to recall the details."

"You are aware of the rules regarding taking those potions, then. Excellent. In that case, it may interest you to know that someone has been taking potions without permission, and I have reason to suspect one of two people." Snape continued in a taunting, story-like tone, "There was considerable evidence for someone I shall call Suspect Number One, but I decided it would be simpler to begin by interrogating Suspect Number Two, and I did as such on Friday. Suspect Number Two, also known as Potter, seemed unaware that such a storeroom existed, and he subsequently denied any guilt. Given that I only suspected Potter because he seems to enjoy disrespecting the rules, and that I can normally smell any rule-breaking from Potter a mile away, I had to grudgingly accept that Potter is not the thief."

Snape waited expectantly, and Liseli glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Wouldn't you be interested to know who Suspect Number One is?"

"Not particularly."

"It's _you_, Colburn."

"Excuse me?"

"The healing potion you gave me was the same type that was missing from my storeroom, and it was in the exact same type of flask that I use for all of my potions." Snape added with a smirk, "Returning evidence to the scene of the crime is very poor technique."

"There are only a few major potions suppliers in Europe. I can't help it if we buy potion flasks from the same one," Liseli retorted.

"You expect me to believe that you know how to brew healing potions?" Snape continued, his eyes glittering maliciously. "And that you happen to keep healing potions on hand?"

"I can't help it if you underestimate my brewing skills," Liseli replied. "And, if you must know, learning about healing magic is an occasional hobby of mine. It's a very unique branch of magic."

"Healing magic? A hobby?" Snape repeated disbelievingly.

"I also like reading novellas set in the 1500s and listening to bagpipe music, but I don't see you caring about _those_ hobbies of mine," she bristled.

"You're lying about something," he sneered. "And I'm not referring to the fact that it's humanly impossible to like bagpipe music."

"Charming," she replied flatly. "What does McGonagall think of your bagpipe hatred?"

Snape acted as though he hadn't heard her and harshly continued, "Listen well, Suspect Number One. If you steal so much as one more potion, there will be consequences."

With a final sneer, he turned to walk away. Liseli angrily stared at his retreating back for a few moments before trying to recollect her thoughts. Trying to remember what she had been doing when Snape interrupted her, she recalled her earlier plan to visit Hagrid, and began walking in the direction of the grounds.

When she came closer to Hagrid's cabin, she noticed from a distance that Hagrid was standing outside with Ron and Hermione. Ron, recognizable by his bright red hair, was leaning against a nearby fence with crossed arms, and Hermione was sitting on a banister of the fence with her hands in her coat pockets. There was also a small wooden cart nearby that was piled with what looked like slabs of raw meat, and Hagrid was periodically feeding the pieces of meat to a few black, horse-like creatures.

"Hello, Hagrid," Liseli greeted him, once she was within speaking distance. She greeted her students with a nod before gesturing towards the animals, "Do you need any help feeding them, Hagrid?"

"If yeh can, go ahead, but not everyone can see Thestrals," Hagrid replied.

"Oh." That's what the creatures were, and likely why Ron and Hermione weren't helping. Liseli continued, "They pull the carriages up to Hogwarts, don't they?"

"Yep. I trained 'em to do that years an' years ago," Hagrid said, patting one of the Thestrals nearby him.

"I remember hearing that when I was a student," Liseli replied. She levitated a slice of meat and hovered it in front of one of the Thestrals' mouths. It immediately began snapping at the meat, tearing off small chunks and throwing them in the air before swallowing them. "I couldn't see them back then, though. My parents only passed away recently."

Hagrid nodded sympathetically. The Thestral Liseli was feeding gnawed at its last piece of meat, and Liseli noticed with disgust that the raw meat juice was trickling down its neck. Perhaps she would actually prefer to be spending this time doing something menial like grading homework.

After feeding another Thestral, Liseli politely began, "Well, Hagrid, I just stopped by to say 'hello', so I should be returning to the castle. It was nice seeing you."

She was about to leave when Hermione turned from her conversation with Ron to blurt out, "Oh, Professor? I meant to ask you this after class, but do you know when we'll be getting back our exams from last week?"

Liseli turned her head slightly, thinking. "I believe I've finished grading the first half of the alphabet. Did you want to see yours?"

"Oh, if it's not too much trouble," Hermione said enthusiastically, before adding in an almost embarrassed tone, "I wasn't really sure about question five, since — well, I suppose I can ask you about it when I see my exam."

"I'm returning to my office now, so you're welcome to come along if you like," Liseli offered.

The two set off for the castle, and Liseli began awkwardly searching for conversation topics for the walk back. What exactly did professors talk about with their students? Before she could think of anything, though, Hermione began speaking. "I'm sorry about your parents."

"Pardon?"

"You said your parents passed away recently," Hermione explained.

"Oh, that was a few years ago," Liseli replied. "They were both relatively old."

Hermione nodded. "I don't talk with my parents too often, since they don't have owl post, but it's nice just knowing that they're there. I can't imagine losing them."

Liseli gave a small, wry smile. "It's a bit easier if you don't get along with them very well. My parents were very traditional."

Hermione hesitated before replying, "Do you mean like your brothers who were in the Daily Prophet?"

"Well, yes, that also." Liseli continued thoughtfully, "I was thinking of how very traditional Wizarding culture believes that women are weaker at magic than men."

"There are people who believe that?" Hermione exclaimed.

"Very old-fashioned people. As a whole, Wizarding culture has been improving, though," Liseli replied.

"I should hope so," Hermione said, looking outraged. "Those very traditional people, they're the same type of people who support the Death Eaters, aren't they?"

"Sometimes, I'm sure." After a moment, Liseli continued, "I've always had the impression that officially the Death Eaters don't have a stance on gender, though. After all, there was a female Death Eater in the newspapers recently – have you heard of Bellatrix Lestrange?"

Hermione shuddered. "Yes, unfortunately. She's insane, though."

"There have been a few others. I remember a Slytherin girl a few years older than me who was killed while fighting as a Death Eater. She was the first female Death Eater to be unmasked, and it was all over the news. She couldn't have been more than 17." Hermione looked down and began shuffling her feet, and Liseli wondered if she had said anything offensive. "Is something wrong?"

"Oh, no. It's just — well, I'm 17 right now. And, I mean, it's hard to imagine." Liseli nodded sympathetically and Hermione continued, "Do you know why she joined the Death Eaters?"

"No, I didn't know her. I made a point to not associate with those sorts of people," Liseli said sternly. Hermione immediately began looking worried that she had offended her professor. Softening slightly, Liseli added, "From what I heard, though, the girls generally didn't join for the same reason as the boys."

"What do you mean?"

"From the people who were around my age at Hogwarts, it seemed the boys who joined were more likely to be pampered pureblood heirs. The girls who joined were more likely to be the type who would have run away from home, only instead of running away from home they joined the Death Eaters," Liseli explained.

Hermione nodded to acknowledge her words, but looked as though she didn't understand.

When they reached Liseli's office, Liseli flipped through the haphazard stack of exams on her desk before pulling out Hermione's and handing it to her. "Oh, I did get question five wrong," Hermione said quietly as she looked through the exam.

"There's also an 'O' on the front page," Liseli said with a smile at her student's high standards.

"I know, but I could've done better," Hermione replied, a hint of disappointment to her voice. "What was the correct answer to question five?"

Liseli turned to the bookshelf behind her and pulled out their textbook. "Page 47," she said, laying the book out in front of Hermione.

"Oh, it was even in the book," Hermione quietly reprimanded herself and silently read the page, before handing the book back. "Okay, thank you. Are the other books on your bookshelf for all of the other years?"

"Some of them. A few of them are my books from when I was a student."

Hermione's face lit up with curiosity. "Have things changed much since then?"

"A bit, but not much. You're welcome to borrow one of my old textbooks to read if you like," Liseli replied.

"Could I? I really like old books," Hermione added with a sheepish smile.

"I'm not _that_ old," Liseli gave a teasing smile, before pulling down her sixth year textbook and handing it to Hermione.

"Thanks!" Hermione smiled brightly. She stood to leave and was almost at the office door, when she hesitated and turned back towards Liseli. "Actually, there was something else I was wondering. Do you know anything about Pensieves?"

Liseli thoughtfully frowned. The word Pensieve was unfamiliar to her, and she replied by asking, "In what sort of context?"

"The object where you can place and watch memories that you've taken from your mind." She mimicked pulled something from her temple with her wand.

The description rang a very faint bell in Liseli's mind, and one sounded like her mother's voice. Perhaps there had been a Pensieve in a legend or fairytale that she had heard as a child. "This is something you've read about somewhere?"

"Well — yes."

"It sounds like a myth," Liseli slowly replied, carefully choosing her words. "I doubt that anything like that actually exists, because it would be a powerful piece of Dark Magic. From the sounds of it, you would be literally tearing pieces of your mind away."

"You can put the memories back in your head, though," Hermione said uneasily.

"Yes, but that still suggests an association with Dark Magic. Not to mention, the potential for wasting away doing nothing but watching memories is also reminiscent of Dark Magic. But," Liseli continued in a slightly lighter tone, "I've never heard of anything like that actually existing, just legends."

"Okay," Hermione said uncertainly as she turned to leave. "Thank you, Professor,"

…

A/N: The next update will come in about two weeks; in the meantime, reviews are always greatly appreciated :)

Many thanks to kci47 for being the best beta someone could ask for!


	16. Ch15: Wands

_Previously in Chapter 14:_ Snape accused Liseli of being responsible for the missing potions from his storeroom, which Liseli denied. Liseli then went to visit Hagrid at his cabin, where she ended up talking with Hermione about traditional Wizarding culture and the Death Eaters, while avoiding mentioning her two Death Eater brothers, Seginus and Matar.

**Chapter 15: Wands**

After grading more of her sixth years' exams, Liseli thoughtfully examined her to-do list for the day. She needed to plan her sixth years' upcoming lesson on Inferi, write a series of critical reading questions for her second years, and write an owl to-of all places-Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. She had been planning a review game for her first years next week, and when she had offered that those who did well in the game could win some sort of small prize, the class had responded quite favorably. Toys and things of that sort from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes seemed to be popular among the students nowadays, and Liseli pulled out a sheet of parchment to write a request for a mail-order form from the store.

She was about to mail the quickly scrawled request when she wondered if there were any other letters she needed to send. Quickly flipping through a messy stack of parchment on her desk, she saw one scrap of parchment with a note to herself that she needed to purchase more ink, another scrap to skim chapter ten of "Perspectives on the Dark Arts" when she had time, a different piece of parchment that-

She paused. The last piece of parchment wasn't written in her handwriting, and with a groan she realized it wasn't a reminder to herself but instead the letter Tarazet had written to her two weeks ago. Her eyes quickly flicked across its words - _I thought I would let you know - I doubt Seginus thinks very highly of Dumbledore - if you're worried that he might bother you -_

Liseli set the letter back down on her desk, deciding to focus on preparing for her classes instead of wondering yet again whether she should write a belated reply to Tarazet. After finally mailing off the note to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, she started quickly sketching out her lecture for the sixth years' lesson on Inferi. It was only after consulting three separate textbooks and spending nearly an hour debating the best lesson structure that Liseli found herself trying to remember how her Defense Against the Dark Art professors had taught about Inferi when she was a student. Was it best to start with the defensive incantations? The theory for how Inferi functioned? How Inferi had been used in the First War? How they might be used in the Second War?

Shaking her head, Liseli closed the textbook she was reading. Perhaps she would try gathering ideas from her former professors' lessons. She knew that she had kept her notes from her NEWT level courses, and it would just be a matter of finding those notes. While she had brought her old school textbooks with her when she moved to Hogwarts, Liseli suspected she had left her other school materials in the flat she kept outside of Hogwarts, and she began preparing to leave for that flat. Although the flat was located in Muggle London, the building housed both Muggle and Wizarding flats and the landlady was an elderly witch.

Once she was inside of her flat, Liseli began looking for her old school notes. After searching for nearly an hour, she finally found a box in the back of her closet eloquently labeled "Stuff, More Stuff, and Other Stuff" that included her old school materials. She had just triumphantly pulled out her notes from her Defense Against the Dark Arts course when she heard a knock at the door. As Liseli did not know any of her neighbors, she decided it must be her landlady, and she opened the door while saying, "Hello, Mrs.-oh."

There were two men in Wizarding robes standing at the door. One of them had a strong build with angular features and a neatly trimmed beard, while the other man had rounder features and a bored expression on his face.

"Apparently you have forgotten who I am," the first man said with crossed arms.

"Of course I know who you are, Seginus," Liseli replied with a wince, before greeting the second man, "Matar."

"Long time no see," Matar replied with a nod.

She had not seen either of them since they were arrested in their early twenties and Seginus, at least, must have been in his forties by now. Indeed, his brown hair had a few strands of white. "What are you two doing here?" she asked.

Seginus uncrossed his arms and put his hands in his pockets. "Can we come in?"

"Er – " Unable to think of a sufficiently polite way to decline, Liseli finished by saying, "Of course."

Once they were inside, Seginus glanced around the flat with raised eyebrows before turning his attention back to Liseli and saying, "We came for a chat, li'l Liseli."

"Don't you think that nickname is getting a bit old?" she replied irritably.

"No," he said with a hint of an amused smile.

Liseli frowned, before quickly glancing between Seginus and Matar. Were they here because they didn't approve of her working for Dumbledore? And, if so, what would they do? Scold her? Curse her? Matar was standing to one side with crossed arms, taciturn as always, while Seginus was standing in front of her with his hands still in his pockets. Liseli wondered with a jolt whether his hands were in his pockets to conceal his wand and, just in case, she surreptitiously began to draw her own wand to be on the safe side.

Liseli had barely begun to pull her wand out, though, when a blur of light flew towards her hand, and the wand soared through the air into Seginus's hand.

"What the hell are you doing drawing your wand?" Seginus exclaimed, lowering his now-drawn wand.

"What are you doing attacking me with a disarming spell?" Liseli yelped in response, momentarily impressed by how quickly Seginus had drawn his own wand.

"What the hell were you doing preparing to attack me?" Seginus retorted.

"I wasn't going to attack you!"

"I don't know what world _you_ grew up in, but where I'm from drawing your wand means you're about to attack."

"I only drew my wand because you were about to draw yours," Liseli snapped in response.

"I was not!" Seginus retorted.

"Everyone knows having your hands in your robe pockets is a sign you might be about to draw. Why else would you do that?"

"Because it's bloody freezing outside," he scowled.

Matar had been silently watching the exchange, but he interjected, "It is rather cold today."

"Hardly. It's only November," Liseli rebutted. She turned back to Seginus, before continuing in a more controlled tone, "Can I at least have my wand back?"

"Not after trying to attack me," Seginus replied.

"I wasn't-"

"You can have it when we're done talking," Seginus continued with a smugly amused expression.

"Fine." Liseli wondered if she should make another attempt at regaining her wand, before deciding to refrain for dignity's sake. "What did you want to talk about?"

A momentarily surprised expression flashed across Seginus's face, as though he had not expected her to actually continue the conversation. "I wanted to ask what you were doing nowadays."

"There are these things called owls, Seginus," she replied, and Matar let out a short laugh. "They're a wonderfully convenient way of communicating with people that doesn't involve appearing at their flat without warning."

"Yes, but if I communicated with you beforehand by owl, you might have tried to turn me in," Seginus said. "I remember what a rat you were when we were younger."

"I only tattled on you for small things when we were growing up, like you breaking curfew," Liseli replied. "You think I would turn you into the Ministry?"

"Returning to Azkaban for a life sentence is a gamble too risky to chance losing," he retorted.

"Clearly you aren't that worried about owling people if you owled Tarazet, though," she rebutted.

"I only owled Tarazet because I thought he knew how to keep his mouth shut. If he told you about that, then apparently I was wrong," Seginus said irritably. He continued, "I did find it odd, though, that when Tarazet owled me back he said he wasn't in touch with you."

"He's been busy with other things for quite a number of years," Liseli replied evenly. "He was only released from Azkaban a few weeks ago, after all."

"_Azkaban?_" Seginus exclaimed. Liseli abruptly remembered that, because Tarazet was arrested after Seginus and Matar had already been sentenced, they had never learned about Tarazet's stay in prison. "What the hell was Tarazet doing in Azkaban?"

"It was a non-violent crime. Counterfeiting."

"Merlin, Azkaban. And he's supposed to be the smart one." Seginus let out a surprised whistle. "Why did he do something as stupid as counterfeiting?"

"How would I know? I didn't even know he was counterfeiting until he was arrested," Liseli reflexively defended herself.

Matar let out a snort of laughter, and both Liseli and Seginus turned to look at him. "Lying doesn't suit you, Liseli," Matar explained. "You and Tarazet tell each other everything. I would bet a sack of galleons that if Tarazet was counterfeiting, you knew the why, when, where and how of it all well before he was arrested."

Liseli bit her lip. It was considerably easier to protect her reputation when she was at Hogwarts, where no one questioned her attempts to distance herself from Tarazet and his illegal activities. Attempting to change the course of the conversation, Liseli said, "So did you two come all this way just to say hello to me?"

Seginus sighed, as though the answer was terribly obvious. When he didn't immediately continue, Matar impatiently began, "Seginus wanted to come here because when the Dark Lord released us and the other Death Eaters from Azkaban – "

"I can tell it," Seginus interrupted. "We came because when the Dark Lord released us and the other Death Eaters from Azkaban, he warned us that the people we knew from before our Azkaban sentences might have since been deceived into becoming Muggle sympathizers-blood traitors. He said it was our responsibility to steer them right again. Well, as soon as the Dark Lord began talking about potential Muggle sympathizers, the first person I thought of was you, li'l Liseli."

Liseli frowned. Convincing Seginus that she had no Muggle sympathies would take a bit of effort and, in an attempt to stall for time, she turned towards Matar and said, "If that's why Seginus came here, why did you come?"

"I was bored," Matar shrugged. "There's not very much to do when you're trying to avoid imprisonment. Besides, it helps to have two people for long-distance Apparation so I offered to help Seginus Apparate here."

"You mean you wouldn't care if I was a Muggle sympathizer?" Liseli said, surprised. She quickly began to think if there was some way she could play Seginus and Matar off of each other.

"No, I would care. But long-distance Apparation requires an awful lot of effort and time just to reprimand you," Matar said disinterestedly.

"I see." Deciding to take a more blunt approach, Liseli lied, "Well, I'm not a Muggle sympathizer, and I never have been. I don't know where you got that idea, but you have no need to worry."

Seginus gave her a disbelieving look. "What about that Mudblood Ravenclaw you used to be friends with when you were a student?"

Liseli mentally swore. She had forgotten that Seginus knew about that. "We fell out of touch," she answered truthfully.

"And you're not friendly with any other Mudbloods?"

"No," Liseli said, purposefully ignoring the large number of Muggle-born students she taught.

Seginus's eyes flicked around the flat again. "Why on earth do you live in a Muggle building, then?"

"It's not an entirely Muggle building. A number of the flats in the building are Wizarding flats," she replied.

"I didn't know you were poor enough you needed to live with Muggles," Seginus said with a hint of a taunt to his voice. Liseli bit back a retort that she was more frugal than poor, and Seginus continued, "This flat is too small for multiple people, so you must not have a husband to provide for you yet. What do you do for your job?"

She was about to snap that she didn't need anyone to provide for her, when the significance of Seginus's last sentence struck her. "You don't know my job?"

"No, why would I?"

"Er – no reason." If Seginus didn't know she worked for Dumbledore that would make things considerably simpler. "I'm a tutor," she said, hoping her voice didn't give away the lie of the present tense.

"Like a governess?" Seginus said. "I suppose that's an appropriate job for a woman."

"No, not like a governess," she said irritably. "Like a tutor."

"So if you're a tutor that means you spend your time teaching children Dark Magic?"

"Nothing especially Dark-certainly not Unforgivables or the like-and only as part of a balanced curriculum," Liseli replied lightly. "It's the same as parents who have their children learn fencing, or wrestling, or those sorts of activities-something to hone the body and mind, but which shouldn't actually be used to harm others."

"Well, at least your job doesn't involve interacting with Muggles," Seginus said. "I trust I don't have to remind you how much Muggles despise witches and wizards. You probably remember as well as I do that Mother's parents, and dozens of other wizards and witches, were killed when the Muggles bombed London in the 1940's."

"Yes, Mother repeated that to us enough times when we were growing up," Liseli replied impatiently. "Even if the bombing was done by German Muggles, not British Muggles. The Muggles were having a war or something like that."

"Muggles are Muggles," Seginus replied, crossing his arms. He stood up a bit straighter before continuing in a brisk tone, "I'm glad to see that you haven't become a blood traitor, though."

Ignoring his last comment, Liseli said, "Can I have my wand back now?"

Seginus held out the hilt of Liseli's wand. She reached for it, but before she could grab it he pulled it out of her range again. "Actually, one more question. Why have you been Untrackable?"

"What?"

"I found you with a Tracking Spell, but I've cast that Tracking Spell before, and this is the first day it's been successful," Seginus said, and he was regarding her with a scrutinizing expression.

Liseli frowned in thought before it struck her that he must have cast the Tracking Spell when she was at Hogwarts. Hogwarts' protective enchantments were enough to deflect Tracking Spells. Choosing to not mention that, she instead replied, "It's not my fault you can't cast a proper Tracking Spell four times out of five."

Seginus scowled but held out her wand again. "Fine."

She grabbed her wand before jerking her hand back in an exclamation of pain and letting her wand clatter to the floor. "What was that?" she angrily exclaimed towards Seginus.

"Well, I was going to mention the aftereffect of the disarming charm I used, but then you insulted my ability to cast Tracking Spells, and I somehow found myself disinclined," he said in a bored tone.

"This is all one big joke to you, isn't it?" Liseli snapped. She examined the scorch mark that had appeared on the palm of her hand, before hotly continuing, "I may have put up with all of your 'jokes' when we were growing up, but I'm not going to anymore, you know."

"I'm trembling in my boots," Seginus replied with a look of condescending amusement. He continued with a wave of his hand, "Come on, Matar, let's go."

Liseli could hear Matar quietly grumbling, "That conversation took the whole of fifteen minutes. We really Apparated all the way from the Continent just for that?"

The door slammed shut, and a second later Liseli heard the _crack!_ of them Disapparating. With an angry hiss, she moved to pick up her wand. She had barely made contact with it, though, when there was another flash of pain across her hand. The curse was apparently still active, and her mind immediately began considering potential counter-curses. Pocketing her wand and grabbing the notes she had come for, she prepared to leave for Hogwarts while thinking the matter over.

It was only after several failed counter-curses that she decided any stronger counter-curses would require a non-cursed wand to cast the spell on her own cursed wand. As it was, her best course of action would be to use a wand repair kit, which could restore any wand to its original, not-cursed condition. She had a vague memory of a wand repair kit being among the various magical artifacts and trinkets now housed in her Hogwarts' quarters, and after Apparating she quickly began walking across the castle grounds towards the dungeons.

It was only when she arrived at the door to her quarters that it struck her she would have to undo her quarters' wards with her cursed wand before she could enter to find her repair kit. Wincing at the burning sensation of her wand in her hand, she hurriedly attempted to cast the appropriate spells, but after only a few seconds the wand slipped from her hand to the floor. She picked it up with her other hand before again attempting to undo her wards, but it now felt as though the searing sensation was crawling up her arm. With an annoyed hiss, her wand slipped from her hand again.

She bent down to pick up her wand again and vaguely registered the sound of footsteps. Idly thinking that she would prefer to not be seen struggling with something as simple as removing her wards, it occurred to her that there was only one other person who would have reason to walk this portion of the dungeons, and she gave a groan when she looked up because, Merlin, it _was_ Snape.

…

A/N: I'm really sorry for the delay in updates. Traveling to visit family for the holidays (2 trains, 2 planes, and a bus, for just one way) + my computer breaking + my SO of four years and I breaking up + my computer breaking again = I haven't been able to keep to my regular update schedule. Now that those are past, though, I should be able to resume more regular updates. I don't know exactly when the next update will come, but I would estimate in hopefully 2, possibly 3, weeks.

This chapter is dedicated to my aunt, who I saw recently and whose appearance - or more accurately, whose height — inspired Liseli's height when I was creating the character; seeing my aunt again made me realize I hadn't updated in a while and how much I missed fanfiction.


	17. Ch16: Hospital Wing and Healing

_Previously in Chapter 15: _Liseli encountered two of her older brothers, Seginus and Matar and after quarreling with them about blood traitors, she found that Seginus had put a jinx on her wand that resulted in it burning her hand whenever she tried to touch it. After returning to Hogwarts, she ran into Snape just as she was having trouble removing the wards on her quarters due to the jinx on her wand.

**Chapter 16: Hospital Wing and Healing**

"Severus, for the umpteenth time, I'm sure I haven't been taking any potions from your stock," Madame Pomfrey said, turning her attention back towards an injured Gryffindor first year.

"I didn't ask if you had been taking them," Severus smoothly replied. "I asked if you had used any of them to heal students and simply forgot to inform me, such that I may brew replacement potions."

Pomfrey continued bustling around the Hospital Wing before flitting back to the injured first-year again. "I don't see how that's any different from taking them, but the answer is still no." It really _wasn't _different from Severus's first question, but he had hoped that by phrasing it in a less accusatory manner he might get a different answer.

They were interrupted by a pitiful whine coming from the Hospital Wing's doorway. "Madame Pom—oh." The first year Slytherin standing there abruptly cut himself off when he noticed Severus's presence.

"Yes, yes, what can I do for you, Adam?" Pomfrey replied in a motherly voice, apparently not having noticed that the student was warily looking at Severus with wide eyes.

"I—uh—injured myself." He feebly held up his right arm where a few angry-looking boils were peeking through the damaged fabric of his robes.

The first year Gryffindor was angrily glaring at him, and Severus sternly said, "I should hope the two of you have not been hexing each other. Such behavior is not becoming of a member of my house, especially." Severus finished with a sharp look at the first year Slytherin, who paled slightly.

"Severus, we have a policy at the Hospital Wing," Pomfrey said sharply. "We don't ask where students received their injuries from, and we don't hand out punishments. All we do is heal."

Severus refrained from replying that he would certainly not run the Hospital Wing that way, and with a withering glare towards the Gryffindor first year, he instead said, "I will leave you to healing the students, Pomfrey. If you do ever need a potion from my storeroom, please remember to inform me after the fact."

"As always," Pomfrey promptly replied.

Severus left the Hospital Wing and began mentally reviewing the evidence for his missing potions. Pomfrey seemed quite certain she hadn't been taking any potions from his stockroom, and he was inclined to believe her. For one, whenever she had taken potions previous years, she normally informed him within a few days. Furthermore, the sheer number of potions that were disappearing was much larger than previous years.

Severus's main suspect was still Colburn, but after she had vehemently denied taking his potions, he had realized it would be difficult to prove her guilt. It was then that he decided he should consider other additional potential suspects. His conversation with Pomfrey made him doubt the thief was a different member of the staff, but he supposed it could be a student.

It was impractical to interrogate the whole student body, and Severus began to consider what enchantments he could cast on the storeroom that would allow Hogwarts staff to obtain potions while excluding any students who had discovered the location of the room. Given that Pomfrey would be less than pleased if Severus severely injured any students, it would have to be a relatively harmless charm, but he was determined it would be effective nonetheless. More potions were disappearing as recently as last week.

By the time he arrived at the potions storeroom, he had settled on casting an Age Line. All students were eighteen or younger, and he was the youngest member of the staff, anyway, so it would be a simple enough spell. He raised his wand to utter the incantation, but he momentarily hesitated.

Was he still the youngest staff member? From previous years, he knew that all of the returning staff was older than him. However, there was one new employee, Colburn, and he did not know her age. It seemed likely she was younger than him, because when they had met at the beginning of the school year, she had mentioned that Severus had set her homework on fire when they were students. As a student, Severus had made a point to only hex those younger than him, and that included lighting their homework on fire. It struck him that the Age Line could then be a convenient way of excluding both students and Colburn from the storeroom, while still allowing other staff access to the storeroom.

He quickly cast the Age Line to reject anyone younger than himself, and feeling slightly more cheerful at the thought he would no longer need to worry about disappearing potions, he began walking back to his quarters. When he arrived at the corridor where his quarters were located, he noticed that Colburn was standing outside of her own quarters; she seemed to be in the process of removing her wards. She didn't notice Severus until she dropped her wand and turned to pick it up, though, at which point she gave a slight frown.

"It's called a door," Severus said without preamble, gesturing towards the entrance to her quarters. "Most people learn how to operate them at a young age."

"Good afternoon to you, too," Colburn replied dryly.

Mildly disappointed that his provocation hadn't yielded a more interesting reaction, Severus was about to continue to his quarters when he noticed that her hands looked as though they had been cursed. Unable to resist his tendency to extract information from people, gained from years as a spy, he gestured towards her hands and said, "Colburn, I assure you I do not care if you are injured or otherwise in pain, but I am curious why a Hogwarts professor has been cursed, if you would please explain."

She glanced down at her hands, before pursing her lips and replying, "This is of no concern to you."

"Should I assume you acquired injury through your own foolishness, then? Decided to take up troll wrestling as a hobby?" he replied.

Severus flinched when Colburn abruptly moved very close to him, but it was only so she could angrily whisper, "For your information, the burns on my hands are from my brother, the one _you_ released from Azkaban."

"I see," Severus replied after a moment. Had she been dueling her Death Eater brother, then? His general desire to avoid helping any Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was defeated by his curiosity for more information, and he continued, "It takes a few days to brew a burn-healing salve. Students might ask questions. I believe I have some in storage if you would like, though."

She gave him a scrutinizing look, before lightly replying, "That would be appreciated."

"Wait here," he said. He returned from the storeroom with a small, stoppered bottle and continued, "We can sit in the Potions classroom. It's not in use today."

She raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean by 'we'? I don't need help applying the salve."

"I wasn't planning to help," Severus said, but he began to walk in the direction of the classroom. She reluctantly followed after a moment, and he explained, "The salve is expensive. I want to ensure you don't waste it."

"I suppose taking it back with me to my quarters is out of the question then," she frowned.

Once they were both seated in the Potions classroom, he handed the stoppered bottle to Colburn. "You only need to apply one layer to the affected areas. If any associated scars persist for longer than a week, you will need to use a scar-minimizing potion."

"I know how to use a burn-healing salve, Snape," she interrupted, and she began to delicately smear the thick blue ointment on her palms.

After a moment of debating his next words, Severus continued, "You said your hands were cursed by your Death Eater brother. That would suggest you were dueling each other. Why?" Surely Severus would have noticed by now if she was actively opposing the Death Eaters?

"Technically he cursed my wand, not my hands, and it wasn't a duel," she responded.

"So he curses you even when you're not dueling. What a loving sibling relationship," he replied dryly.

"We've never been close," she said neutrally. "He was too much older than me. When I was growing up as a child, he was already at Hogwarts, and by the time I was a second year at Hogwarts, he had moved to the Continent to look for work."

"If it wasn't a duel, then why did your brother curse your wand?

She paused in her application of the salve before replying, "He thought I might be a blood traitor."

Severus idly drummed his fingers on the table. So she wasn't a participant in the war, after all. "I'm surprised you're telling me this," he said with a smirk. "Seeing as I'm a Death Eater myself, what makes you think I would be sympathetic to blood traitors?"

She momentarily glanced up from her hands to meet his eyes before unconcernedly returning her focus to the burn-healing salve. "Snape, I've heard the students call you a number of things. Most of them are rather crude so I won't repeat them, but I have never heard a student say they thought you discriminated on the basis of blood. There are plenty of reasons why people join the Death Eaters, but I don't think blood is one of yours."

For a second, Severus was taken aback. He had assumed her response would be an expression of nervousness at remembering he was a Death Eater, and he replied in an almost vicious sarcasm, "Pray tell, in your deep psychological understanding of me, why did I join the Death Eaters?"

She looked up again, and this time she steadily held his gaze. Still suspicious of her opinions on the Death Eaters, he used the eye contact as a chance to attempt Legilimency, and when she began speaking Severus could start to make out ghostly outlines in her eyes. "I can't fathom the way your mind works, Snape."

The ghostly outlines were people, students, dressed in green and silver.

"But you know as well as I do that at least half of the Slytherins from our generation became Death Eaters," she continued.

_The foggy shape of a short boy, a pudgy girl, someone smoking a cigarette._

"They didn't all join for the same reason. An urge to gain power—"

_A heavy boy was energetically gesticulating, surrounded by other students._

"A thirst to prove yourself—"

_A small girl was waving her hands towards a distant crowd, apparently being ignored._

"An interest in the Dark Arts—"

_A lanky boy was flipping through a book, grinning and swishing his wand as he did so._

"Pick your reason, and I'm certain there's at least a dozen more," she finished. She glanced back down at her hands again, breaking the connection.

"I suppose," Severus replied in a forcibly neutral tone. She was far too accurate in her guess of why he had joined the Death Eaters, and it was resulting in a foreign feeling he couldn't quite pinpoint-something like a mixture of discomfort and suspicion, with an entirely unwelcome dash of pleasant surprise. Colburn had been in Slytherin, so it wasn't exactly odd that she understood why someone might join the Death Eaters, but it was rare for him to find such an opinion in another professor.

The classroom was silent for a few moments as Severus debated what to say next. He finally said, "You said your wand is cursed? How were you planning to remove the curse?"

"I was going to use my wand repair kit-" She cut herself off and frowned in thought. "You distracted me away from my quarters when I was going to get it. There's also a counter curse I could cast, but I would need to borrow a different wand for that."

"I'm not going to let you use my wand, if that's what you're asking," he scoffed.

"I wasn't—"

"However, I suppose it would not extraordinarily inconvenience me to cast the counter curse myself," he interrupted in a drawl. "What is the incantation?"

"It should be the delayed version of _Flammus Enlevio_," she replied.

She placed her wand in front of her with a wince, and he touched the tip of his wand to hers while muttering the incantation. A red spark jumped from the end of her wand, and both of their wands briefly glowed yellow.

"Thank you," Colburn said, examining her wand. "Judging by how our wands glowed in unison, am I correct in guessing you also have a dragon heartstring core?"

"It is one of Ollivander's most commonly used cores," Severus replied disinterestedly. She returned her attention to the burn-healing salve, and he added, "In case you're too unobservant to notice, you're getting ointment on your sleeves."

She glanced at the cuffs of her long-sleeved robes with an unconcerned expression. "Cleaning spells can get anything out, as long as it's not corrosive. It's—er—not corrosive, I assume?"

"No, it's not. Although I never knew it took so much effort to roll up one's sleeves," he drawled, raising a single eyebrow.

She shrugged, before replying. "It's cold in the dungeons."

He regarded her for a second longer before the thought occurred to him that he didn't know what sort of upbringing she had. There were some very traditional families—like the one Narcissa had grown up in—where it was considered improper for a woman to bare her arms in public. Deciding to give her a bit or privacy, Severus began walking towards the door and said, "I'll trust you to not waste more of the salve than necessary. When you're finished, find me in my quarters and I'll put it back."

She nodded, and approximately fifteen minutes later he heard a sharp knock on the door to his quarters. "Thank you," Colburn simply stated, holding up one of her now pinkish, healing hands. "I put the ointment back on its shelf in your storeroom."

"In the storeroom?" Severus repeated disbelievingly. The Age Line would have prevented her from entering the storeroom, so she must have accidentally placed it elsewhere. "Show me where," he said with an irritated sigh. If she had just followed his directions in the first place, this would have all been much simpler.

Colburn walked back to what was indeed the storeroom. Without any hesitation, she crossed the threshold into the room and pointed towards a shelf while Severus gaped at her. She stated, "I put it on this s—"

"How old are you, Colburn?" he interrupted. She had just pranced across his Age Line! She was supposed to have been thrown back and temporarily aged if she tried to cross the Age Line and yet she had been completely unaffected.

"What?"

"I asked how old you w—"

"Yes, I heard you, but _why_ are you asking?"

"At the beginning of this school year, you said we were at Hogwarts at the same time. How many years apart were we?" he said sternly.

She gave him a scrutinizing look, before replying, "I was a third year when you set my homework on fire. You complained that I was interrupting your studying for OWLs, so I suppose that would be a two year difference."

Severus mentally swore. Even if she was younger than him, Age Lines were known for being less accurate the older the person who was trying to cross them. An Age Line could certainly distinguish between a fifteen-year old and a seventeen-year old, but now that they were adults they were apparently too close in age for the charm to work as he had intended.

"You haven't yet answered my question of why you were asking," Colburn continued suspiciously.

His attempt to use the Age Line against her foiled, Severus quickly considered if there was another way to determine if she was taking the missing potions. Ignoring her question, he said, "Have I mentioned that I am considering closing this storeroom?"

Colburn's eyes opened slightly wider. "What?"

"It seems the storeroom is not used frequently enough to justify keeping it open," he casually lied. Given that the potions were normally used in case of emergency, the Headmaster would have never allowed the storeroom to be closed, but Colburn did not know that. "I fail to see why this would be of interest to you, though. Unless you have a need for the potions?"

"No, why would I?" she replied. Her face had a blank expression, but her eyes were quickly flicking around the storeroom. After a moment she continued, "Well, thank you for the burn-healing salve, Snape, but I should be going."

After she left, Severus inspected the shelves of potions yet again, but he found that no more potions were missing than those he already knew about. Slamming the door shut behind him as he left, he silently swore that he would find a way to prove the thief's identity.

…

A/N: Thanks for the continued support everyone, and many thanks especially to my beta-reader, kci47! Next chapter will be up in hopefully about 2 weeks. In the meantime, I can't remember if I've mentioned this before, but I have longer author's notes (which consist in large part of my rambling but, y'know) for each chapter of this story up on my Livejournal (username: foxglove44).


	18. Ch17: The Prince and the Pensieve Soul

**Chapter 17: The Prince and the Pensieve Soul**

_There once was a kingdom full of happy men, women and children. The crops were plentiful, the weather was warm and sunny, and the people were a cheerful lot, tied to each other through laughter, smiles, and shared fairy tales._

"Shared fairy tales?" Ron interrupted Hermione's voice with a snort of laughter, and she slightly lowered the book she was reading aloud from — _1001 Fairy Tales from Around the World. _"It sounds like they're trying to advertise their own book."

"Product placement at its finest?" Harry grinned

Ron laughed and Hermione shared a smile. She raised the book to continue reading, before pausing at the distant sound of voices. They were in Ron's bedroom at the Burrow, and the weekly Order of the Phoenix meeting was due to start in a bit. It seemed they weren't needed yet, though, and Hermione continued to read the story aloud.

_Although the kingdom was happy for many years, after many more years their happiness began to decline, twisting into darkness and unhappiness. There were several years of poor harvests, followed by a horrible drought and then a flood, resulting in a lasting famine. Barbarians began to regularly loot and pillage the townspeople, and lengthy wars with the surrounding tribes depleted their working population. To top it all off, the weather became as though despair itself was hanging in the air: cold and gloomy._

"This story can't have been written in Britain if they think 'cold' translates to _despair_," Harry interjected.

"Well, the front of the book says this story is from — " Hermione rustled the pages to the narrowly cramped table of contents. "Bavaria. Or maybe that says Bulgaria."

Squinting, Harry leaned over. "Doesn't that say Latvia?"

"Latvia isn't even a separate country in the Wizarding World, though. It's a part of the Russian Empire," Hermione replied.

"Well, _wherever_ it's from," Ron grinned, and Hermione continued the story.

_The King left on a journey to discover how he might drive the despair away, but he soon disappeared and was heard from no more. His son, the Prince, sent calls throughout the kingdom to collect the best ideas as how to restore hope and happiness, and finally two men presented themselves to the court._

_The first was a selfish man, whose greed glinted through every one of his smiles. He promised to bring poets and artists, rich food and delightful music to the court - for a price. But his plan would only cheer the court and not the people of the kingdom, and so the Prince sent the first man away._

_The second was a wise man. He instructed the Prince to sign peace treaties with the warring tribes and cede land to the barbarians. Such concessions would induce several more years of famine, but would ultimately allow the kingdom to rebuild until it was stronger and more resilient. But the plan would take time and the Prince was a rash man, and so the Prince sent the second man away._

_After the second man, the Court Jester brought himself forward and declared that he would use the power of magic to banish the despair blanketing the land. The Prince was also a Wizard, and he laughed at the idea that such a feat was possible. He asked the Jester what his price was, disbelieving, and the Jester replied that the universe must be kept in balance at all times. He could not destroy the despair without creating something else. _

_The Jester ventured into the kingdom. Soon the gloom over the land disappeared, the despair receded, and hope returned. He returned with a floating golden orb, which he bestowed upon the Prince: the price necessary to maintain the balance of the universe. _

_The Jester returned to his position in the court, bathed in praise but otherwise unrewarded, and the Prince soon became suspicious of him. The Jester had defeated unhappiness itself and yet was asking for no compensation. Had he no ulterior motives? _

_One day, the Prince was inspecting the mysterious golden orb while contemplating his previous interactions with the Jester. He found that he could watch his memories of the Jester on the golden orb and, overjoyed at the realization he could relive his past experiences, he began watching his memories of the King. Perhaps the King could help him decide the wisest course of action with regards to the Jester._

_Unlike his memories of the Jester, however, his memories of the King were twisted from the truth, and when the Prince took the golden orb in his hands to examine the memory more closely, a spirit suddenly appeared from the golden orb. The spirit regarded the Prince, and the Prince fell to his knees when he realized it was the King. The Prince cried out to the King, asking for advice on how he should rule, but the King remained silent. The King's unearthly presence seemed to freeze the very room and, despairing, the Prince began to leave the room._

_The Prince tried to return to the court, but the King followed him. The Prince tried to go to the grounds, but the King followed him. The Prince tried to visit the nearby village, but the King followed him. Everywhere he went, the King followed him, until the Prince was on the brink of madness. The Jester then suddenly appeared before them._

_The Jester swept into a bow and promised that he could return the King to health. The King would no longer be a spirit, but a person — but only for a price. The Jester would only help the Prince if he declared the Jester to be the ruler of the kingdom, and both the Prince and the King went into exile. Driven by despair, the Prince agreed. The Jester cast a powerful incantation, driving the despair away and healing the King, and the Jester was declared to be the new ruler of the kingdom. _

Hermione flipped the page, before saying in a surprised tone, "That's the end of the story. The next page starts the story of 'Frost White and the Seven Goblins.'"

"That's a bit of a downer for an ending," Ron cut in.

"Unless — were we supposed to be rooting for the Jester?" Harry asked, perplexed.

"I don't know. It's certainly an odd story, isn't it? There's not even a clear moral," Hermione mused.

"_I_ think the moral is perfectly clear," Ron teased. "It's clearly 'Don't trust court jesters.'"

"Well, besides that," Hermione laughed.

There was a knock at the door to Ron's bedroom, and they looked up to see Bill standing there. He greeted them with a smile and said, "There you all are. What are you doing?"

"We're having a crazy pillow-fight-party," Ron joked, lightly throwing a pillow at Bill.

He caught it with one hand and said with a grin, "You really want to start this? Because I'm pretty sure I can guess who would win in a pillow fight."

"Well, if Ginny were here, she would definitely win," Ron laughed.

"Fair point," Bill agreed, and he took a seat at Ron's desk. Gesturing at the book in Hermione's lap, he said, "What are you reading?"

"Just a fairy tale we thought might be — " Hermione caught herself from saying "useful" and instead finished " — interesting. It's called 'The Prince and the Pensieve Soul.'"

Bill nodded. "Childhood nostalgia? Although I don't recall Mum ever reading us that one," he added as an afterthought.

Hermione shared a look with Ron and Harry, as though debating how much they could tell Bill. After a moment Harry said, "Dumbledore has a Pensieve where he can replay memories, and we're trying to learn more about it. I don't know how open Dumbledore is about owning one, but since you're a member of the Order, I'm guessing Dumbledore trusts you."

Bill mimicked zipping his lips shut. "Don't worry, I can stay mum. Although I have to say, a book of fairy tales isn't the first place I'd turn to for research."

"Yeah, it hasn't been as informative as we were hoping," Harry replied. Neither he nor Hermione had been able to find any information on the Pensieve in textbooks, and after Hermione's attempt to ask Professor Colburn about Pensieves had similarly proved unsuccessful, Hermione had found this story in the library.

"I'm a bit disappointed there's not more about Pensieves in the tale," Hermione finally stated. "I mean, the word is in the title, but it's never in the story itself."

"The golden orb sounds a bit like a Pensieve, what with being able to put your memories in it," Harry thoughtfully replied. "But that's about where the similarities end."

"It is just a fairy tale, after all," Ron shrugged.

They were silent for a moment and Bill said, "I don't mean to interrupt, but I did come up here for a reason. The Order meeting is starting in a few minutes, so we should probably head downstairs to where people are gathering."

By the time they joined the other Order members in the Burrow's kitchen, the meeting had already started. Tonks was leading a discussion about whether a few specific Aurors were trustworthy enough to be invited to join the Order, after which they moved to discussing a new piece of legislation that the Ministry was considering. Apparently the Ministry was debating whether their current regulation of Wizard-Muggle trade was sufficient or whether they should increase the tariffs on Muggle imports, and the Order was trying to ascertain what effect that would have on the Second War.

"We're all missing the point," Tonks interrupted. "It doesn't matter what effect it would have on the economy. What matters is that it's a symbol. There are several people in the Ministry who are publically arguing against it, and we need to make sure that nothing bad happens to them."

"The Order is already keeping a watch on them," Moody briskly replied. "We can't afford to divert more of the Order's resources than that."

"But why can't we put them under Ministry protection?" Tonks exasperatedly asked. "Dedicate a few Aurors to making sure the Death Eaters don't try anything funny?"

"None of the three main opponents of the legislation have been officially threatened. Until that happens, the Ministry can't do anything," Moody replied.

Tonks looked as though she was about to reply when a lynx Patronus jumped into the center of the room, and Kingsley's deep voice boomed, "All Order members required. Death Eaters attacking in London. Westminster Bridge in danger of collapsing."

The Order members sitting in the kitchen began standing up and preparing to Apparate. Tonks turned to Mundungus Fletcher, who was still snoring at the back of the room, and loudly said, "Oi! Dung!"

Mundungus jumped awake in his seat. "Who — huh — wha?"

"Alert the Order members who aren't here that they need to meet us at Westminster Bridge as soon as possible. Remus, Fleur, George — all those people, okay?"

"Will do," he yawned, before Disapparating.

Tonks faced Hermione and brightly said, "Ready to go?"

They Disapparated together and reappeared in the vicinity of a large bridge. Tonks quickly left in the direction of the ongoing duels, and Hermione began trying to place her surroundings. The street that led onto the bridge was blocked with traffic, and Hermione realized that the Muggles trying to cross the bridge must have not known of the Death Eater attack; it seemed likely the Muggles were assuming the traffic was due to a more innocuous reason.

Harry and Ron, side-along Apparating with Moody and Bill, soon appeared. Hermione joined the two boys while Moody and Bill went in Tonks's direction. Gesturing towards the line of stopped cars, Harry said, "Let's tell them the bridge is closed. That should get them away from the area."

Nodding, the three of them spread out to different cars. "Ma'am," Hermione said, knocking on the window of one stopped car. The woman driving skeptically lowered her window, and Hermione continued, "There's been an accident—the bridge, it's structurally unstable, you have to turn around."

Far in front of them she could see Ron's red hair, and a bit in front of her she could hear Harry saying, "Sir, there's been a bomb threat against the bridge, you have to evacuate the area, now."

They slowly proceeded up the line of cars, until Hermione was close enough to the battle to see the actual combatants. The combatants were spread out across a large area and silhouetted against the flashes of greens, reds, blues, and yellows lighting up the sky. She was about to suggest to Harry and Ron that they be on guard when an errant Stunning Spell whizzed by her ear, and she reflexively threw up a Shield Charm. Looking around, she realized that her two friends were not standing behind her, as she thought. In their goal to deter as many as Muggles away from the site of the battle as possible, they had apparently accidentally split up, and she looked around for them again.

Another beam of light shot towards Hermione, and it slightly grazed her arm when she angled herself away from its oncoming path. With a sinking feeling, she realized the curses weren't accidentally coming her way. Someone was aiming at her, and she only had to look in the direction of the curse to spot a Death Eater facing her, his wand drawn.

"Got your attention, have I now?" the Death Eater snickered. With a quick jab of his wand, the dirt beneath her feet had transformed into ice, and Hermione barely caught herself from crashing to the ground. "Working on destroying the bridge isn't any fun, not when there's a toy to be played with presenting itself."

Hermione shuddered and took a few steps backward to match his approaching pace, looking left and right for any sign Ron or Harry. They must have been further in the distance, though, either following the line of cars or hidden behind the other silhouettes.

"_Expelliarmus!_" Hermione quickly yelled. A flash of blue, and the Death Eater's Shield Charm had deflected the curse.

"The mouse wants to play with the cat, does it?" he clucked his tongue. "Never turns out well for the mouse though, does it? Mouse gets eaten, or at least _cooked_." She hadn't even seen his wand move and suddenly she felt a blast of heat hit her, as though she had strolled into a furnace.

The heat was gone as soon as it came, and the lightly cool night air was sighing against her face when she quickly stuttered a Stinging Hex. The hex flew through the air, hitting his wand arm and earning a yelp of pain.

"Mouse thinks it can scratch the cat, does it? And get away with it?" he snarled. "But maybe the cat's tired of playing."

A red light silently flew from his wand, followed by a purple light and a shrieking whizzing sound and the feeling of hail from the sky and—

Hermione quickly threw up Shield Charm after Shield Charm, but he was summoning too many spells too fast, and she suddenly felt like ice was crawling across her skin. Her limbs had become frozen in place.

"Got you now, haven't I? But I think I'm tired of our game of cat and mouse. I think I'd like to end it." Hermione felt a horrific jolt of fear when he raised his wand and began, "_Av—_"

"Was your assignment really to duel a child?" A loud voice cut him off, and she noticed that another Death Eater was standing some distance away, near a portion of the bridge that was close to crumbling. At first Hermione wondered where there was a child, before she realized that the Death Eater was referring to her. He continued speaking to the Death Eater who had attacked her, "You're a member of the Second Regiment, aren't you? Isn't your mission to focus on destroying the bridge?"

The Death Eater who had attacked her spun to face the other Death Eater. "Listen, Mister, just because you belong to the Third Regiment doesn't mean you can go telling me what to do!"

The second Death Eater was now strolling towards them, twirling his wand between his fingers. "Actually, if you'll recall your training, Third Regiment members _can_ tell Second Regiment members what to do," he replied in an uninterested tone.

"I don't see a Regiment Commander watching us, so as far as I'm concerned, I'm not going to follow that rule," the first Death Eater sneered.

The other Death Eater shrugged. "Suit yourself. However, I doubt killing an innocent child who is a witch will do much to win the hearts and minds of the Wizarding population."

Hermione felt a warmth right by her heart when he finished his sentence. The warmth spread from her torso to her arms and legs, and she idly thought that was a bit odd because what he had said wasn't _that_ heart-warming. Then it struck her-the curse that had frozen her limbs in place was wearing off. The two Death Eaters in front of her remained seemingly oblivious, and she quickly debated if could manage to get away without them noticing. Running would undoubtedly draw their attention, and although she had begun Apparation lessons, she knew little enough about Apparation that she was terrified she might accidentally splinch herself in two if she tried it.

" 'Hearts and minds,' " the Death Eater scathingly mimicked. "We don't need to worry about winning the people's hearts and minds. Grab them by the balls and their hearts and minds will follow."

"Actually, Grindelwald tried that in Poland, and it didn't work," the other Death Eater casually corrected.

Hermione continued staring at the second Death Eater, baffled. At first she had assumed that he just enjoyed interfering with the other Death Eater, but it was beginning to sound as though he was actually _defending_ her. A second later it struck her: the second Death Eater must be Snape. The mask muffled his words such that she couldn't place his voice, and the robes did an otherwise good job of masking his identity, but what other Death Eater would defend her?

Her eyes quickly flicked to his hands in search of the flourishing gesture he normally made to identify himself to Order members. He was only twirling his wand in his hands, though, and Hermione wondered if she had missed him making the flourishing gesture earlier. Then another thought struck her — Snape likely didn't realize that she would recognize that gesture. She only knew of it because Tonks had explained it to her, and Snape couldn't know that. If he thought it would not be a useful way of identifying himself to Hermione, then it made sense he wouldn't bother with it.

Her thoughts were interrupted when an amplified voice boomed out, "THIRD REGIMENT: RETREAT AND SCATTER!"

Hermione watched as the Death Eater who she thought was Snape turned his head in the direction of the voice. He faced the other Death Eater again before saying, "That would appear to be my call to go. I trust you will return to destroying the bridge, as ordered. I'm sure I don't need to remind you that disobeying orders amounts to treason, and we both know what the punishment for _that_ is."

The other Death Eater flinched but didn't turn back to the bridge when the other Death Eater started turning on his heel to Apparate. Hermione felt a burst of panic at the thought of being left alone with the first Death Eater and, quickly weighing her options — staying with a Death Eater who had tried to kill her, splinching herself when she tried to Disapparate, or Apparating with Snape — she leapt the few feet separating her from Snape and reached for his arm. She had just grabbed him when she abruptly felt her feet lift off the ground in the sensation of side-along Apparation.

The world was still spinning around her when her feet hit the ground. They appeared to be in an empty field, and the awkward imbalance of the unexpected side-along Apparation caused both of them to stumble. Hermione began in a relieved tone, "Thanks—"

"Merlin's beard!" His startled exclamation cut off Hermione's words, and she felt a Stunning Spell whizz by her ear.

"Wait — it's me — " she stuttered. Snape wouldn't _attack_ her, would he? He might pretend to not know her or pretend to not care if she lived or died, but surely he wouldn't attack her?

Another beam of light shot towards her, and she hastily threw up a Shield Charm. Her charm deflected the spell, but just the force of the oncoming spell was enough to knock her off her feet. Quickly wondering if she could somehow unmask the Death Eater to prove if it was Snape, she realized that the Death Eater's mask seemed to be made of metal. Recalling that heating spells were known to concentrate themselves wherever conducted heat the most effectively, she hastily sent a heating spell in his direction. With a yelp of pain, the Death Eater tore off his apparently metal mask.

The Death Eater wasn't Snape.

It wasn't anyone Hermione had seen before, and she felt a flash of terror at knowing she was alone with an armed Death Eater. Scrambling to her feet, she quickly looked around again. They were at the top of a hill in the middle of a field but, squinting, she noticed an unlit house at the bottom of the hill. Deciding that she wouldn't be able to hold off the Death Eater forever, she screamed towards the house, "Help! Someone help!"

She had just turned towards the house when he cast another spell at her. The Shield Charm she threw up either wasn't fast enough or wasn't strong enough, for she felt a slight pressure over her heart — as though someone had gently lobbed a snitch at her chest — and her knees instantaneously buckled.

She was unconscious before she hit the ground.

…

A/N: Woo, this update was both longer and faster than I expected! I'll also mention that I didn't bother including a summary of the previous chapter at the top of this chapter like I sometimes do because this chapter is the start of a new subplot, so it doesn't directly relate to the last chapter. If you think it would be helpful for me to always include chapter summaries regardless, though, just let me know.

Many thanks to kci47 for being the best beta one could ask for!


	19. Ch18: The House on the Hill

_Previously in Chapter 17: _Hermione accompanied the Order of the Phoenix to a Death Eater attack, where a Death Eater tried to duel her. A second Death Eater, one that she believed to be Snape, discouraged the first Death Eater from attacking her, and when the Death Eater defending her Disapparated, Hermione forcibly side-along apparated with him only to learn that it was not Snape after all when he knocked her unconscious.

**Chapter 18: The House on the Hill**

Hermione stifled a groan as she held a hand up to her forehead. Ugh, what a splitting headache. An aspirin would be nice right around now. Unless, wait, was it the school year? A headache potion from Madame Pomfrey would do the trick then.

In fact, she was almost certain it was the school year. What had made her think, for even a split second, that she might be at home? Coffee-that was why. There was the smell of coffee pervading the air, exactly like she used to smell when she was nine years old and huddled underneath the covers of her bed before the Primary School day.

When she opened her eyes, though, she wasn't snug in her bed at home. She was lying on a rather hideous yellow and brown plaid sofa, and her feet were beginning to get the feeling of pins and needles from hanging off the other end of the too-short sofa. Frowning, she took in the room around her. A fireplace stood on the opposite side of the small living room she was in. Its bricks were stained with the green-tinged grime of repeated Floo use, and on the fireplace mantle there rested several ornate silver trinkets and a framed photo. It looked as though someone had tried to remove the thick coat of dust covering the photo, and the reservedly smiling faces of two parents with their Hogwarts-aged children looked up at her.

Hermione turned her attention away from the mantel and glanced around the room again. Where was she? She remembered trying to warn Muggles away from the site of a Death Eater attack. She remembered Apparating with the Death Eater who she had mistakenly thought was Snape. She remembered the Death Eater trying to curse her, but she could not remember anything past that. It was still dark outside, though, so not that much time could have passed since the attack.

A thought struck her, and she quickly crossed the few feet separating her from the living room windows. In the dim light outside from the moon, she could just tell that the house was at the bottom of a familiar-looking hill. It seemed as though she was inside of the house to which she and the Death Eater had Apparated close by, and Hermione silently thought that the people in the house must have heard her cries for help.

While it didn't seem that she was in immediate danger, she still had to battle a feeling of defenselessness when she plunged her hand into her pockets and didn't find her wand. On the one hand, her first instinct was to leave the house immediately. On the other hand, she was at least miles from civilization, with no wand, no money, and it was nighttime to boot. Stifling a frustrated sigh, she relented that maybe it would be best to find whoever lived in the house and see if they had found her wand. Both the choice of decorations and the age of the photo on the mantel made her think that the person who lived here must be around the age of her grandmother, and a Professor Sprout-esque figure drifted to mind as Hermione silently began walking from the living room.

She cautiously approached the smell of coffee coming from the kitchen and peeked into the room to see if there was anyone there. Instead of the grandmotherly figure she had been expecting, though, there was a man standing at the kitchen counter. He was angled away from the door such that she couldn't see his face, and there was a steaming mug of coffee on the counter.

Deciding to revise her plan, Hermione quickly stepped back from the kitchen door, but her movement resulted in a particularly noisy floorboard creaking. The man immediately spun around, sharply drawing his wand in one smooth motion, and Hermione felt a flash of horror. Now that she could see the man's face, she recognized him as the Death Eater who had Apparated with her in the first place.

He wasn't attacking her, though. His wand was up and pointed at her, but he only seemed wary. He finally said, "I see you're awake. Quite the surprise; I thought you would be unconscious for at least another half hour. I wasn't planning to let you see me unmasked again." Hermione silently thought that his voice didn't have the jeering, condescending tone she would have expected. He sounded nervous, instead.

Unsure how to respond, Hermione gave a sheepish smile and hurriedly began thinking of how she was going to leave in one piece. Two steps: Get her wand. Get away. But where was her wand? Had it slipped from her hand into the grass outside? Or had the Death Eater taken it from her?

"I have some questions for you," he continued after a moment. "First, why did you follow me?"

"I, uh, thought you were someone else," Hermione hesitatingly replied. She quickly glanced around the kitchen, as though hoping for a sign pointing to where her wand was. The kitchen was organized such that everything was neatly stored away, except for the mug of coffee by the Death Eater and several spice boxes on the kitchen counter next to her.

"Who did you think I was?"

"Um, I mean, well-" She was hardly going to reveal Snape's identity, and in an attempt to draw the Death Eater's attention away from the topic, Hermione blurt out the first retort she thought of and hoped her attempt at flattery might distract him. "Why are you being polite to me?"

The Death Eater's eyebrows rose slightly. "I would hardly call myself polite right now. I do not normally keep house visitors at wandpoint."

"Well, no-I meant-" she fumbled in response.

"Yes, I know what you meant," he interrupted. "If you must know, I consider it in poor taste to harm children. You are-what? Thirteen?" A surprised expression must have appeared on Hermione's face for he soon revised his guess. "Fourteen?"

"Er-yes," she lied.

"What exactly _is_ a school-aged witch doing in London during the Hogwarts' school year?"

"I was, uh, visiting family," Hermione half-lied. "As a matter of fact, I'm sure they're wondering where I am. They're probably looking for me as we speak."

"I see." He nervously shifted his weight, and Hermione noticed the tip of her wand peeking out of his robe pocket. If she could just distract him long enough to grab it…

On an impulse, Hermione brightly began, "Is this your house? It's very nicely decorated. Cream is such a nice color for wallpaper, don't you agree? And it really goes with everything, although sometimes I think it can make the room seem a bit colorless, depending on what sort of look you're aiming for."

The Death Eater gave her a faintly puzzled look. "Pardon?"

"And, I mean, uh, also—" Hermione faltered. He seemed mildly distracted, if his expression was any indication, but conversation alone would not be enough to let her grab her wand. She immediately began searching for other potential distractions, when her eyes landed on the coffee mug on the counter.

With a slight frown, he continued, "Interior decorating aside—"

"The wallpaper makes this kitchen look a bit bland, don't you think?" Hermione cheerfully interrupted, her mind whirring. "But you could add a bit of color really easily if you wanted to, and it would make the whole place look better. Take these curtains for example—" She purposefully walked to one of the windows only a few feet from the Death Eater, and held up the fabric of the curtains. "If these were yellow instead of cream that would make the whole room seem lighter and more open, and that's really a better style for a kitchen than what you have now."

"I'll be sure to take your advice when I redecorate," he dryly replied. "Regardless, I did have one last matter I wanted to speak with you about."

Hermione hesitated, before using the opportunity to take another step closer and pasting a nonchalant expression on her face. "Yes?"

"As I'm sure you can imagine, I am not particularly enthusiastic about potentially being arrested for being a Death Eater," he said lightly. "For that reason, I don't generally reveal my identity to people who might turn me into the Ministry. People, for example, like you."

"Why would I turn you in? It's not like I—er—have anything against the Death Eaters," Hermione nervously lied, and her eyes flicked around the kitchen again. She was now was only a few feet from the kitchen counter, and the door stood just a few feet behind her. All she needed was for him to lower his wand for a fraction of a second so that she could act. "Besides, how could I turn you in? I don't know your name."

"I'm glad to hear you have little interest in reporting me," he said in a tone suggesting he didn't entirely believe her. "However, to be safe, I also wanted to remind you that earlier I stopped the other Death Eater from using the Killing Curse on you. That means you owe me a life debt—"

"What?" Hermione blurt out. Life debts were such an uncertain branch of magic that she had never learned much about them beyond their existence.

"If would let me finish, I was going to say that you owe me a life debt, and I would like to propose a small trade of sorts relating to that. Namely, I saved your life. Now I propose that you reciprocate by agreeing to not do anything that would sentence me to life in Azkaban. A life in Azkaban hardly counts as living, so I would consider that a life for a life, so to speak."

Hermione pensively frowned for a moment. Agreeing to not turn him in didn't sound particularly bad in and of itself, but there was still the matter of how she was going to get back home. She doubted the Death Eater would let her freely walk away, especially given that his wand was still pointing at her. The first step of getting away, though, would be just to get her wand back, and her eyes flitted again to his robe pocket.

He turned his head slightly, apparently following her line of sight and continued, "If you are looking for your wand, yes, I have it. Although, I rather prefer my own."

He lowered his own wand, before pointedly pulling Hermione's wand from his pocket and holding it up between two of his fingers. Realizing his wand was no longer pointing at her, Hermione instinctively leapt the few feet to the counter and grabbed the coffee mug. The Death Eater whirled in her direction, but before he could raise his wand again, Hermione flung the hot coffee at him. He threw his arms up over his face with a surprised yelp, and both of the wands he had been holding fell to the ground with a clattering sound.

Without a thought, Hermione grabbed for her wand and tore towards the door, wand firmly in hand as she sprinted outside. Deciding that accidentally splinching herself didn't sound nearly so terrifying as it had at the beginning of the evening, Hermione tried her best to remember the three D's of Apparation – Destination, Determination, and Deliberation, was it? - and to visualize Diagon Alley as her destination. With a _crack!_ she Disapparated.

Hermione felt her feet slam into the ground as she reappeared. The world was still swimming around her as she frantically checked that all of her limbs were still attached, and she heaved a sigh of relief to see that she hadn't splinched herself. Blearily holding a hand up to her head, she tried to take in the location she had Apparated to. She seemed to be on a relatively quiet street in a dense city, and her eyes flicked between the electric lights and tall buildings. Wherever she was, it certainly wasn't Diagon Alley, nor did it seem to be particularly close to Diagon Alley. Thinking that at least she hadn't splinched herself, and that at least she had her wand with her, Hermione pulled her wand out of her pocket. For a second, Hermione could only stare at it, dumbfounded. It wasn't her wand.

With a flash of horror, Hermione realized it was the Death Eater's wand. She must have left her wand with the Death Eater, and she gave a groan at the realization. Deciding it would be best to deal with only one matter at a time, though, Hermione turned her focus towards learning where she had accidentally Apparated to.

Steadying herself, she walked down one street. Then another. Then another, and another after that. A star twinkled overhead, obscured by clouds. A stop light changed from red to green. A sign for the Underground flickered in the distance. Hermione could only hear her still ragged breath in her ears.

She was well and truly lost.

…

A/N: The next update should come in 1-2 weeks. In the meantime, I'm always curious to hear theories, in addition to my generally loving to hear from my readers :)

Many thanks to the amazing kci47 for beta-reading!


	20. Ch19: The Wand

_Previously in Chapter 17-18:_ Hermione accompanied the Order of the Phoenix to a Death Eater attack, where a Death Eater tried to duel her. A second Death Eater, one that she believed to be Snape, dissuaded the first Death Eater from killing her, and when the Death Eater defending her Disapparated, Hermione forcibly side-along apparated with him, only to unmask him and learn that it was not Snape. This Death Eater then told Hermione that she owed him a life debt and he would give back her wand if she agreed to not turn him in. Hermione instead fled and tried to take back her wand, but took his instead before she Disapparated.

**Chapter 19: The Wand**

"Hermione!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked as Hermione stepped out of the Burrow's fireplace, and Hermione had barely walked more than a step before she was enveloped in a hug. "We were so worried! You scared us sick, you know that?"

Hermione tried to respond that she was fine, but her words were muffled by her head being currently planted against Mrs. Weasley's bosom as the motherly figure continued tightly hugging her.

Finally breaking from Mrs. Weasley's hug, Hermione quickly took in the room she had Flooed into. It seemed the other Order members had not returned to the Burrow, for only Harry, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and some of the Weasley brothers - Ron, Bill, Fred, and George - were in the room. Ron's face was a shade of white that ghosts would envy, and he mumbled in a forcibly nonchalant tone, "We knew Hermione would be fine. She can survive anything people throw at her."

Harry added in a rather queasy tone, "I'm glad you're okay, Hermione."

"Yes, I'm just fine, everyone," Hermione addressed the room with a reassuring smile. "Really, you don't need to worry about me. I just—er—accidentally got separated from the group. And then a bit lost after that." She silently hoped that nobody would ask for more details because she found it rather embarrassing that she had mistaken another Death Eater for Snape, and then trusted her judgment enough to Apparate with him. Harry and Ron she would tell the full story, of course, but she preferred for the whole Order not to know.

"It's good to see you're in one piece," Mr. Weasley said with a weak smile. "We feared the worst."

The rest of the room murmured in agreement, and Mrs. Weasley added, "Arthur, could you contact the rest of the Order to tell them they can stop looking for Hermione? Hermione, it's quite cold out, and you were gone for more than two hours-do you want some hot tea? Or a Pepper-Up potion? Or I probably have some snacks I could lay out if you're hungry, or—"

"I'm okay. Thank you, though," Hermione graciously replied, knowing that warm food was one of Mrs. Weasley's ways of showing that she cared.

"No need to be modest. I'll put on the kettle," Mrs. Weasley replied in a motherly tone.

Once Mrs. Weasley had disappeared to the kitchen, George turned towards Hermione and added with a joking smile, "I didn't know the hair stylist was open at this time of night."

"I—what?" Hermione said, confused.

"I had the exact same thought, George," Fred added, before gesturing towards her forehead with a mock-serious expression. "Although I have to say, I know you girls like plucking your eyebrows and all, but don't you think that's a bit extreme?"

"What's wrong with my eyebrows?" she replied with a sinking feeling.

"Nonsense, Fred. They're very chic. I could see it being the next big fashion trend," George said with an approving nod.

Fred turned his head slightly, before seconding the nod. "That's a fair point. I suppose I wouldn't say there's anything _wrong_ with them. They're just…different."

"Different how?" Hermione said, dreading the answer.

"Well," George replied, carelessly waving a hand, "they're not really there anymore, per se."

"I don't have eyebrows?" Hermione exclaimed. Clearly her earlier judgment that she hadn't splinched anything had been preemptive.

"It's a quick enough fix," Bill added from his position near the side of the living room.

Fred said with a mischievous smile, "Yeah, we just take a quill and—"

"There's also a spell," Ron interrupted.

"But where's the fun in that?" George cheerfully replied. "Just think, Hermione, with just a few quill strokes you could always have surprised eyebrows! Or angry eyebrows, or disbelieving eyebrows or—"

Mrs. Weasley walked back into the living room at that moment, and Hermione turned to her and said, "Do I really not have eyebrows?"

"I thought you already knew that, dear," Mrs. Weasley replied, setting down a teapot and a plate of biscuits on a nearby table. "Do you want me to regrow them for you?"

"Er—yes, please," she replied. "I didn't know you knew how to regrow eyebrows."

"What sort of mother would I be if I didn't know how to regrow eyebrows?" Mrs. Weasley lightly said, tapping her wand on Hermione's forehead.

George leaned forward and whispered to Hermione, "When Fred and I were seven we discovered that ground garden gnome toenails make people's eyebrows fall out. Percy used to go _week_s without eyebrows."

Hermione let out an appreciative giggle while Mrs. Weasley finished casting the charm. "There, good as new," Mrs. Weasley smiled, talking a step back to regard her work. "Now, would you like some tea?"

Deciding that she wanted to talk with Ron and Harry about tonight's events more than she wanted tea, Hermione graciously replied, "I'm a bit tired, so I think I may just head upstairs for the night. Thank you, though."

She shot Ron and Harry a meaningful look, and Harry added, "Yeah, I think I might go to bed for the night soon, too. I still have a Charms essay I need to write tomorrow."

"Ditto," Ron replied, but he was looking hopefully at the biscuits. "Although maybe we can bring some of the food up with us?"

A minute later, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were relaxing in Ron's bright-orange bedroom, cheerfully munching on biscuits.

"So what exactly happened once you got separated from us?" Harry said from his position sitting sprawled on the floor.

"And more importantly, how many Death Eaters did you take out?" Ron added through a mouthful of food.

"I didn't 'take out' any Death Eaters," Hermione added with a laugh, swatting Ron on the shoulder. "That's not supposed to be our role in the Order."

"Yeah, but knowing you, I bet you could still do it if you wanted to," Ron grinned.

"Regardless," she returned the grin, before setting into a lengthy explanation of everything that happened.

"So after you Apparated to Diagon Alley, how'd you get back to the Burrow?" Ron asked part-way through her story, leaning forward to grab another biscuit.

Hermione sighed. "I _tried_ to Apparate to Diagon Alley, but I missed and ended up in a completely different part of London. The good news, though, is that I found a station for the Underground so I was able to take the Underground to the Leaky Cauldron, and then Floo from there."

"The Underground? You had Muggle money with you?" Harry said.

"Not exactly. You know how the access to the platforms is controlled by turnstiles? Well, they're—er—really quite easy to get through even if you don't have money. All you have to do is jump over them." Hermione looked away with an embarrassed expression before adding, "But I'll pay double the next time I take the Underground, really! That way it's not really like I ever did anything wrong."

Ron let out a small laugh and clapped a hand on her shoulder. "It's not like you had any other options, so I don't think you need to feel guilty about it."

"I suppose." Hermione let out a breath before continuing, "The worst part of it all, though, is _this_."

She pulled the Death Eater's wand from her pocket and set it on the floor between Ron and Harry. "Your wand? What's so bad about that?" Harry said after a second.

"It's not her wand," Ron promptly corrected, before looking mildly embarrassed. "I mean—er—anybody could tell that. Hers is a bit shorter and the wood has more of a green tinge to it."

Surprised and unexpectedly pleased that Ron had noticed, Hermione explained, "I lost my wand at the house. All I have now is the Death Eater's wand."

"I know it's not the same as having your wand, but at least it's better than no wand?" Harry offered in a hopeful tone.

"I suppose, but I don't know if I even want to try to use it," Hermione sighed. "There are those horrible defensive spells you can cast on a wand, so that if somebody else tries to use it they go blind, or their hands fall off, or any number of things like that. I've only heard about such spells before, and normally I wouldn't worry about someone knowing Dark Magic like that, but who knows what sorts of spells the Death Eaters know."

"You know, I bet we could ask Bill if he knows how to get rid of those sorts of curses," Ron thoughtfully replied. "He had to deal with a ton of different curses in those Egyptian tombs, and I know I've heard him complain about Wand Duty at Gringotts."

"Wand Duty?" Harry repeated.

"Yeah, Wand Duty. You know how you have to present your wand to the goblins to get into your vault? Well, if the goblins have a doubt about whether the wand is genuine, they bring it to a wizard or a witch, who inspects it more carefully. All of the Gringotts employees have to rotate through Wand Duty, but apparently it's incredibly dull because you spend most of your time sitting around."

"I can see how that would get boring," Hermione agreed.

Ron nodded. "So do you want me to grab Bill and ask him to look at the wand? See if it's safe for you to use?"

"Sure," Hermione shrugged.

A minute later she heard Ron and Bill coming up the stairs to Ron's bedroom. She could hear Bill saying in a teasing voice outside of the door, "I know I'm supposed to be a supportive older brother, Ron, but if the reason you're bringing me up here is so that I can check under your bed for monsters, I really think you're of an age where you can do that yourself."

Ron laughed. "Okay, I can promise you that's not why I'm bringing you up here," came his voice.

They both walked into the room a moment later, and Harry grinned at Ron. "Checking for monsters, eh?"

"Bill's comment was—er—entirely theoretical," Ron replied, the tips of his ears turning pink. "I've definitely never asked Bill to check under my bed for monsters before."

"That's not what Ginny says," Hermione innocently replied.

"Okay, fine, maybe once when I was really little," Ron sheepishly said. "Or maybe more than once. Anyway, Bill, sorry for dragging you up here all mysteriously, but I didn't want to explain in the living room with Mum around. Basically we—er—recently acquired a wand and want to know about it."

"Well, that's not mysterious at all. I'm sure unknown wands fall from the sky into the shared ownership of three people all the time," Bill replied seriously. "What did you want to know about it?"

"Er—mainly if it's cursed," Ron answered.

"Any particular curses you're worried about this mystery wand having?" Bill said cheerfully, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Harry.

Deciding that it didn't seem fair to ask Bill for help without explaining why, Hermione launched into the full story for the second time.

When she finished, Bill said, "I'm glad you got out okay. I'm guessing I don't need to say anything about being a bit more careful next time?"

Hermione sheepishly shook her head. "No, you don't. I've learned my lesson."

Bill gave her a friendly smile before continuing, "Did you notice if the Death Eater was anyone the Order is particularly interested in seeing arrested? Like the Death Eaters who were at the battle at the Department of Mysteries?"

"I didn't recognize him from anywhere. There wasn't anything particularly notable about him, either, though. Tall, brown hair, clean-shaven. There's a lot of people who fit that description," Hermione shrugged. "He seemed worried about being arrested and sent to Azkaban, so maybe he's already been in Azkaban, and he escaped in the break-out? I don't know, but I doubt I'm going to run into him again."

Ron and Harry made small sounds of agreement, but Bill stayed silent, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"What are you thinking about, Bill?" Hermione said uneasily.

"Nothing, really," Bill replied. "Just, well, I know wands generally have tracking properties."

"What do you mean?" Harry said.

"The thing about wands," Bill slowly replied, "is that they don't really like being separated from their owners. From what I've heard, wands will sometimes track to their owners, or even try to facilitate their return to what they think of as their rightful owner."

"How do they do that?" Ron said, nervously taking a step back from the wand resting between them on the floor.

Bill shook his head. "I'm not sure, exactly. I've heard mentions of it, but since my main interest is curse breaking, I haven't learned much about wand lore. It's probably not enough of anything to be worry about, which is why I didn't bring it up until you asked."

Hermione uncertainly nodded, before replying, "Do you think you might be able to at least tell me if the wand is cursed? Harry suggested I might be able to use it instead of my own wand, since I don't have my real wand anymore."

"Sure, checking it for curses should be easy enough. Clearly it's okay to touch if you grabbed it, and if you used it to Disapparate then it's probably safe to use, too, but we can double-check just to be sure. There's a pretty nifty spell for that, actually," Bill replied. "Have any of you heard of the _Tralatius_ charm before?"

Ron and Harry both looked expectantly at Hermione who shook her head. "No, I haven't. What's it do?"

"The _Tralatius_ charm allows you to force a different wand to cast your intended spell, so if the wand _is_ cursed it'll react to that. But then since you're not actually using the wand yourself, even if it's cursed it can't hurt you," Bill explained, picking up his own wand. "Here, I'll show you. _Tralatius Expecto Patronum_!"

Even though Bill had said the incantation while holding his wand, his Patronus erupted out of the tip of the wand on the floor, and the silvery-white antelope made a quick lap around the room before disappearing again.

"Nothing happened to the wand," Hermione cautiously ventured.

"Looks like its use isn't cursed," Bill agreed. "Did you want to know anything else about it? Like its core or something? I have some practice with those sorts of detection charms from Gringotts."

"Sure," Hermione said, delicately picking the wand up from the floor and handing it to Bill.

He cast several charms on it before saying, "Looks like it's a Dragon Heartstring core, and I think its wood is fir. It's about 13 inches, I'd say, and a bit hard. Or, well, I suppose the official wand term would be 'unyielding', but same thing." He let out a small laugh and said, "It's a good thing those are all pretty common for wands, because I'm rubbish at identifying the rarer wand substances."

He handed the wand back to Hermione, who replied with a gracious thank you.

"If that's all, I think I might turn in for the night," Bill said, standing up with a yawn. "G'night, everyone."

After Bill left, Harry said after a moment, "So, what now?"

"Now? Well, it _is_ rather late," Hermione said, similarly standing up and stretching a bit.

"I meant about the wand," Harry laughed.

Hermione morosely looked down at the wand in her hands, and replied with a sigh, "For now, I guess I have a new wand."

…

A/N: Many thanks to kci47 for beta-ing this chapter!


	21. Ch20: Baneberry Potion

_Previously in Chapter 17-19:_ Hermione accompanied the Order of the Phoenix to a Death Eater attack, where she forcibly side-along apparated with a Death Eater who saved and then unmasked him. This Death Eater then told Hermione that she owed him a life debt and he would give back her wand if she agreed to not turn him in. Hermione instead fled and tried to take back her wand, but took his instead. Back at the Burrow, Bill told Hermione that the DE's wand was safe to use, but warned that wands have a way of trying to track back to their owners.

**Chapter 20: Baneberry Potion**

The green flames had barely cleared from before Hermione's eyes when she heard Professor McGonagall's briskly polite, "Welcome back, Miss Granger."

Hermione brushed the green-colored Floo ash off of her robes before offering McGonagall a quick "Thank you" and looking around the Hogwarts hall they were in. There were four fireplaces against the walls, including the one she had just stepped out of, and the Heads of House were monitoring the open Floos.

At the sound of the Floo behind her, Hermione moved to the side and was soon greeted by the sight of Harry stepping out of the fireplace.

"Mr. Weasley will also be returning to Hogwarts from the Burrow tonight, correct?" McGonagall asked, reading the scroll of parchment in her hands.

Hermione nodded, and a second later, the Floo roared again. Ron stepped out of the fireplace, brushing soot off his robes as he did so.

After McGonagall checked their names off on the scroll and wished them a good evening, the three of them began the trek from the Floo room to Gryffindor Tower. It was Sunday night only shortly before curfew, and the corridors were silent except for occasional rustling from the paintings. The Great Hall was one of the rooms they passed through and it, too, was significantly quieter than during the day. Stars twinkled overhead in the enchanted ceiling, and in preparation for tomorrow's breakfast, the tables were entirely clear. Except—

"Is that an owl?" Harry said, pointing towards the Gryffindor table.

Hermione squinted through the dimly lit Great Hall at the table. "Looks like it. It must be waiting for tomorrow morning to find its recipient."

"I guess so," Harry said. "Although I swear it's looking at us."

"It's not any owl I recognize," Ron shrugged, and they continued on their way to the Gryffindor tower.

* * *

><p>Hermione cheerfully greeted Harry and Ron the next morning as they took a seat next to her at breakfast. Ron sleepily slathered a piece of bread with marmalade before saying, "I don't know how you do it, Hermione. We have double Potions first thing in the morning, and somehow you manage to look something other than horrified. Or depressed, like Harry here."<p>

Ron clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder, who flatly replied, "We have to spend the next three hours with Snape. How could that _not_ be depressing?"

"At least it's the start of a new unit? That should be interesting," Hermione helpfully replied, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

"Yeah, but that means we'll be getting back our tests from the last unit soon," Harry replied with a sigh, grabbing a piece of fruit. He idly added, "I wonder how many different ways Snape can find to fail me."

"I don't know, but I bet we could compete for who fails the most often," Ron said cheerfully. A second later he added, "Although I would only bet on it if I could bet on myself."

"Ron!" Hermione laughed. "Surely you don't _want_ to get failing grades?"

"No, but it seems to happen in Potions anyway, so no point in being sad about it." He reached to grab another piece of toast, before pausing mid-reach and looking at the end of the table. "Harry, is that the same owl you pointed out last night?"

A tawny owl was standing near the end of the table, curiously turning its head at the surrounding students. It did indeed look like the same owl and, now that it was light out, Hermione could see that it was carrying a rectangular package.

"It looks like it's looking for someone," Hermione said, turning back to face Ron and Harry.

"It'll be probably be a return-to-sender soon," Ron said, pouring himself a goblet of pumpkin juice.

"A return-to-sender? That can happen with owls?" Harry said.

"Yeah, if you're not clear enough when sending an owl, sometimes they get confused about who they're supposed to deliver their letter to, and they end up having to fly back to whoever sent them in the first place for more clarification," Ron replied, turning his attention back to the plate of food in front of him.

The three of them soon finished the rest of their breakfasts and began their descent into the dungeons. Once they were inside the Potions classroom, they could see that there were four cauldrons at the front of the classroom. At least one of the cauldrons smelled like sulfur, while another (or perhaps the same one—Hermione couldn't tell) smelled like rotten fish. Snape was also at the front of the classroom, alternating between stirring one of the cauldrons and watching students file into the classroom with his customary scowl.

Once the whole class was assembled, Snape filled a clear beaker with the potion from the rightmost cauldron and held it up. Without preamble, he announced, "Who can tell me what this is?"

The few rustling sounds in the classroom disappeared, and Hermione racked her brains as the class fell silent. The potion's red colour was not enough to go by, and the smell of that potion was mixing with that of the other potions such that she couldn't be entirely sure of its identity.

Snape raised an eyebrow as he looked around the silent classroom and drawled, "This potion is either a poison, an antidote, or neither. Which is it?"

When no one moved to respond, Hermione raised her hand and tentatively began, "It's not an antidote because—"

"If I had wanted to know what the answer was _not_, Miss Granger, I would have asked for such," Snape silkily replied. When no one spoke further, he continued, "It seems I need to speak as though I am addressing first years. Our newest unit is poisons and antidotes. What is this potion?"

Hermione shot her hand in the air again. "Then it's a p—"

"No one knows what this is?" Snape sneered, setting the beaker down. "Have none of you decided it worth your time to open a book during the course of your Hogwarts career?"

"Maybe if it was something you had actually taught us before," Harry muttered under his breath.

"All antidotes can be identified by their blue color. This is therefore a poison," Snape sharply articulated. "It is the Baneberry Potion and has one particularly unique property. Who knows what it is?"

"You can transform the poison into the antidote by adding only one ingredient," Hermione blurt out.

"And that will be everyone's first assignment for the day," Snape announced to the class in response. "You will all be given a sample of the Baneberry Potion, with which you will discover how to create the proper antidote. Possible ingredients can be found to the left of the classroom. I remind you that you will be working with a poison, and you therefore must be extraordinarily careful when handling it. Anyone who does not do as such will be punished appropriately. You may begin."

The members of the class began bustling around, and Ron fondly said, "Do you remember how easy Potions was back when we were first years? All we had to do was follow the instructions in the textbook."

"Yeah, none of this 'invent the potion yourself' stuff," Harry reminisced.

"Well, this is more like what actual potion brewers do," Hermione replied. "Although I do wish I remembered what ingredient it was that changes Baneberry Potion from a poison to an antidote."

"Yeah, I wish you remembered, too," Ron teased, and Hermione gave him a good-natured swat on the arm.

"Ronald! I wouldn't give you the answer even if I did remember it."

"Ah, well, can't blame a bloke for trying," Ron grinned. "Want to at least give a hint about what type of potion it is?"

"Well, it's a poison," Hermione said with a teasing smile.

"Okay, _that_ I know," Ron replied. "But what does it do?"

She gestured towards the flasks of potion in front of them before adding with the same smile, "Come on, let's get started on the actual assignment."

Ron moved to grab potion ingredients from the side of the classroom and added, "At least Snape only laid out six different ingredients. It means I can just try them one-by-one, and eventually I'll find the right one."

Hermione was mildly peeved to admit that he was right, but she was none the less determined to discover the correct ingredient without resorting to such guess-and-check methods.

Pulling out a roll of parchment, Hermione began to take notes on what she knew. The base of the potion was flobberworm mucus and one of its main ingredients was baneberries – that much she could remember. The red color also suggested the presence of some substance that only partly reacted with the base, probably hellebore. If it was hellebore, finding the proper ingredient for the antidote would be simple enough. All she would need then would be a substance that could break down the bonds between the hellebore and flobberworm mucus.

She chewed her lower lip, while trying to think of what compounds could do that. Gnomish Lava Plant was a substance that could break almost any bond, but it was also extraordinarily expensive, so it seemed unlikely they would be required to use it. The compound ionicis carphina was similar, but similarly rare. Although — didn't it have a more commonly used relative? It was ionicis something – ionicis ajiricola? Ionicis alisio? No, ionicis assula, that was it! And it was a compound present in a fair number of other magical plants and animals, too.

Hermione nimbly walked to examine the collection of ingredients Snape had set out. Neither of the first two ingredients had any ionicis assula, and while the third ingredient had trace amounts, it would certainly not be enough to create the antidote. The fourth ingredient, griffin claw, had a low concentration of it and, although she had a creeping doubt that it would be sufficient, neither of the last two potion ingredients had _any_, so it seemed to be the only possibility.

Hermione raised her wand to levitate a griffin claw to her work station, but her first attempt to levitate it resulted in it hovering barely an inch off the table. Her second attempt resulted in it shooting two feet into the air, until she was finally able to lower it to a reasonable height and bring it back to her cauldron.

With a frustrated sigh, she dropped the griffin claw into a pestle and grabbed a mortar. If her inability to hover ingredients as accurately as she liked was any indication, she still wasn't used to her new wand yet. Admittedly, she was not sure whether referring to it as her new wand was entirely appropriate. It seemed a bit cheerful of a phrasing given that she had obtained the wand by accidentally taking it from a Death Eater.

The griffin claw now a fine powder, she delicately poured a sample of Baneberry Potion into her now-clean cauldron and added the griffin claw soon after. With a few turbulent stirs of her wand, the potion began bubbling and changing color. It slowly morphed from its original red color to a dark orange, before settling on a dull yellow-green.

Hermione let out a loud groan. That wasn't anywhere _near_ the right color for the antidote.

Ron looked over at her cauldron before saying, "Hey, your potion is puke-green too! Maybe fifth time will be the charm, eh?" He Vanished his own cauldron of yellow-green potion, before pouring another sample of Baneberry Potion into his cauldron and reaching for the fifth ingredient in Snape's line of ingredients.

Hermione dejectedly turned back to her own cauldron. If it wasn't griffin claw, then what could it be? Had she incorrectly analyzed the potion? Or was she misremembering how much ionicis assula was needed? But, no, she was certain that all of her logic had been correct. In fact, if anything, the antidote required a _higher_ concentration-

It was at that moment that a thought struck her with such force that her mouth formed the shape of a small 'O', and she found herself wondering how she hadn't thought of it before. Of course Snape hadn't laid out the ingredient they needed! He had likely predicted that most of the students, like Ron, would use a process-of-elimination to find the proper ingredient and was trying to avoid that.

Smiling triumphantly, Hermione tightly screwed the lid onto her flask of Baneberry Potion and rolled up her sleeves. Deciding that Flitterbloom bark would be a suitable source of ionicis assula, she decided to transfigure the remnants of her griffin claw.

She raised her wand, planning to gradually coax the griffin claw into the sturdy bark and delicate leaves of the Flitterbloom plant. To her surprise, as soon as she began the Transfiguration charm, the griffin claw shot into the form of a two-foot long branch, slamming against her flask of Baneberry Potion and sending it flying into the air. Hermione watched, horrified, as it spiraled towards the front of the classroom where Snape was standing.

A fraction of a second later it hit Snape squarely in the back of the head, before dropping to the ground and shattering, and the whole class fell silent as he whirled in Hermione's direction with a livid expression.

…

A/N: So I recently realized that two of the upcoming chapters are set around Christmas and, if I time this right, I can actually post them around the holiday season (instead of some non-Christmasy time like the middle of March). In other words, I'm going to update every few weeks until Christmas, resulting in my posting 4-5 new chapters (including this one); after that I will temporarily return to trying create enough of a backlog that I can start posting regularly again.

Anyway, thank you to all of my lovely readers for their support and many many thanks to kci47 for beta-reading!


	22. Ch21: The Note

_Previously in Chapter 20:_ After a weekend that included helping the Order, Hermione returned to class on Monday. Having accidentally swapped wands that weekend with a Death Eater who saved her and whom she unmasked, Hermione had to content herself with using the DE's wand as her own. However, she found the wand more difficult to use than hers and during Potions accidentally sent a vial containing a poisonous potion flying across the room because of it.

**Chapter 21: The Note**

At the sound of the potions vial shattering at his feet, Snape immediately whirled around and looked between the class and the Baneberry Potion now leaking across the flagstones.

"Who. Did. This?" Snape hissed, his eyes flicking between the different students in Hermione's direction.

The quiet chattering filling the classroom vanished, and Hermione was left looking at Snape with a horrified expression still frozen on her face.

"WHO DID THIS?" Snape roared, and several of her classmates jumped slightly.

Shaking from head-to-toe, and rather feeling as though she was about to be sick, Hermione timidly raised her hand an inch before blurting out, "I'm so so sorry. It was an acci —"

"That potion is _poisonous_!" Snape bellowed. "Or, despite my warnings at the beginning of class, have you perhaps decided that being careful when handling poisons does not matter? Perhaps that safety is for other people?"

"No, I — "

"Unfortunately, Miss Granger, your actions do not just affect the safety and well-being of yourself, but of those around you as well. Although perhaps your view of the world is too limited to have considered that," he sneered.

The entire class was staring at them now, and Malfoy and Pansy were watching the exchange with expressions that suggested they were regarding an amusing play. Her voice trembling, Hermione feebly replied, "I swear it was an acci —"

"Give me your wand," he sharply interrupted.

For a second she stared, uncomprehending. "W-Why?"

"Clearly you have proven yourself incapable of working with dangerous substances. You will therefore not be allowed to complete the lesson or participate for the rest of the class period. You may sit silently in the back, and I will return your wand after you complete detention."

"Detention?" Hermione squeaked. Despite her, Harry's, and Ron's rule-breaking, she had never received detention before, and she didn't want to even consider such a mark on her record.

"I was unaware you had recently become hard-of-hearing, Miss Granger," Snape snapped. "Yes, detention. See me after class." He stretched out his hand for her wand, and she numbly handed it to him before slowly collecting her belongings to change seats.

Hermione spent the rest of the period miserably watching the class from the back of the classroom. When the time for the assignment was up, Hermione sullenly took notes as Snape explained that of _course_ the missing ingredient was Flitterbloom bark, and if none of them had deduced that, then they were even more incompetent than he had previously thought.

By the end of the class, Hermione could barely wait to leave the confines of the dungeons and enjoy lunch in the Great Hall with Ron and Harry. She was about to step over the threshold to leave the classroom when she heard Snape's icy voice from the front of the classroom, "Miss Granger, I should hope you're not forgetting your detention."

Declining Ron and Harry's offers to wait for her, Hermione slumped back into the classroom and set her book bag down with a defiantly loud _whump!_

By the time she was done with Snape's numerous demands — re-alphabetizing the ingredients, dusting the bookshelves, sweeping the floor, scrubbing the school cauldrons, washing the class desks — she no longer wondered why the Potions classroom always seemed pristine. She could hear a distant bell indicating the end of the lunch period when she walked up to Snape and finally said, "I'm done. Can I go now?"

Snape looked up from the textbook he was reading and skeptically glanced around the classroom. For a second Hermione thought he was going to find another chore for her to do, but instead he drawled, "And what have we learned today?"

"Be safe when working with poisons," she replied from between gritted teeth.

"And?"

"And?" Hermione repeated.

"In case you were unaware, Miss Granger, it is frowned upon in the Potions community to use Transfigured ingredients due to safety reasons," he replied lightly. "Normally this is because they are prone to contaminants and may therefore react badly with potions. Perhaps you were simply trying to be an overachiever by finding new ways to make Transfiguring ingredients dangerous, but if you insist on doing such, I must ask you to do it on your own time."

"Yes, sir," she mumbled, a tinge to her cheeks.

Opening a desk drawer, he pulled out her wand. "You may go."

Hermione pocketed the wand before wondering how to phrase her next question. She hesitatingly began, "Er — Professor? I was wondering since I wasn't able to complete today's assignment, when I would be able to make it up?"

"I don't offer make-ups for missed work, which you would know if you read the class rules from the start of the year."

"So, then will the assignment not be included when calculating my final grade, or…?" she nervously pressed.

"It will count as a failed assignment."

"A fail?" Hermione squeaked.

"Yes, a fail."

With a horrified expression, Hermione hurriedly blurted out, "B-But I could make it up on my own time or - or I could do a r-replacement assignment or —"

"This is nonnegotiable, Miss Granger. My class rules apply to all students - not all students except you." He turned his attention back to the textbook in front of him in a final sort of way and, feeling as though she was about to burst into tears, Hermione hurriedly left the classroom.

Trying to convince herself that, even with a fail, she likely still had the highest grade in the class, Hermione trudged her way to the Great Hall. She couldn't help but be thankful that she currently had a free period, for the lunch break was already over. The Great Hall was empty except for a few plates of leftovers, and she tossed her book bag downbefore pulling a plate of cold lamb chops towards her.

All of this was her new wand's fault, she angrily reflected while pulling it out of her pocket. If she still had her old wand — and not the Death Eater's wand – then she would have been the first person in the class to correctly brew the antidote, easily gotten the best grade, and then afterwords been able to enjoy lunch with Ron and Harry. But, no, her new wand had insisted on being stupidly unpredictable, resulting in her getting a bad grade - and not just a bad grade, a fail! She had never received a fail before, and with a frustrated cry, Hermione hurled the wand against the wall.

It fell to the floor with a clattering sound, and from the opposite side of the hall there came a surprised hoot. At the other end of the Gryffindor table was the lost owl Hermione had seen earlier this morning, and it turned its head in the direction of the sound before returning to preening its feathers. Feeling the anger begin to drain out of her, Hermione sighed and picked up the wand again before approaching the lost owl.

"You're still looking for the person you're supposed to give this package to, aren't you?" she said gently, thankful for a distraction from her grades.

The owl gave a soft hoot.

"Let me see if I can help, okay? And if not then I'll send you back to your owner." Hermione lightly stroked the owls' feathers before checking the package for a name. To her surprise, the package did not have an unclear or difficult to read name as she had thought it would. Instead, it simply had no name visible anywhere on the package. Shaking her head, she said to the owl, "I'm sorry I can't help. I think you should go back to your owner."

In response the owl held out its right leg, and Hermione noticed a small leather band stating that the owl was a post office owl.

"Okay, well, not your owner, then. Go back to whoever sent you," she said.

The owl stared at her uncomprehendingly, in as much as owls can stare uncomprehendingly.

"Go back to whoever sent you," she firmly repeated. Again, the owl made no motion to move, and Hermione found herself wondering if post office owls even had a return-to-sender option. It occurred to her that, since the package did not seem to have any writing anywhere, it was possible there was some indication of the addressee inside, such as a letter. Hoping that nobody would walk into the Great Hall and see her opening their package, Hermione began untying the package from the owl to check for an addressee.

To her surprise, she had just finishing finished loosening the package from the owl, when the owl suddenly began flapping its wings and flying towards the window.

"Wait, come back!" Hermione cried out. "_I'm_ not the recipient!"

The owl continued flying until it disappeared out of the window, and Hermione was left sitting alone in the Great Hall.

With a dejected sigh, Hermione decided she might as well see if the addressee was at Hogwarts, because then at least she could deliver the package. She began untying the twine around the package and had just opened it when she gave a shocked gasp.

Quickly trying to calm her heartbeat, Hermione told herself that the content of the package was just a wand. Any ordinary wand. The fact that it looked like _her_ wand was a complete coincidence. Surely people were sent wands in the mail all the time and — well, she was actually quite certain that it was extraordinarily rare to receive a wand in the mail — but, still. The wand's resemblance to her wand was likely completely fabricated by her intense urge to be reunited with her wand. Either that or the stress of having received a failing grade was causing her to see things. Yes, that was surely it. Maybe Madam Pomfrey even had a healing potion that she could recommend for stress-induced hallucinations.

Still…Hermione hesitatingly looked at the package again. There was nothing else inside of it, except a small scrap parchment that she nervously pulled out. The neat, slanted cursive read:

_Dear Madam,_

_Although you have not yet agreed to our trade regarding not revealing my identity, I nonetheless return you your wand with the good faith that __you will return me mine__._

_Regards,_

Hermione flipped it over and, noting that there was no name signed anywhere, read it through several more times. _Although you have not yet agreed to our trade regarding not revealing my identity_…That made it sound as though the letter could have been from the Death Eater who had her wand, and she excitedly realized that perhaps the wand was actually real and belonged to her. Perhaps this was what Bill had meant when he said that wands could track to their owners, and she excitedly moved to pick up her wand before a thought suddenly struck her. Should she really be assuming that a magical object sent to her by a Death Eater was perfectly safe?

Hermione withdrew her fingers, fighting the urge to feel her wand in her hand again. Mentally berating herself for not being more skilled in checking for curses, Hermione quickly wondered if there was anyone she could ask for help that would not ask too many questions. Bill was too far away to help now. McGonagall could help, but Hermione didn't fancy having to explain the whole situation to her, and she would be sure to ask. Silently going through a mental list of her professors, Hermione quickly decided that perhaps she could ask Professor Colburn. Not only would she know how to check for curses, Hermione thought she seemed unlikely to ask why her wand might be cursed.

* * *

><p>"Why might your wand be cursed?" Colburn said, her expression a mixture of confusion and concern.<p>

Hermione frowned. There went that plan. "It — er — doesn't really matter, it does it?"

"On the contrary," Colburn lightly replied, peering at Hermione's wand on her desk among the piles of parchment also resting there. "Which curses your wand may be affected with will influence how we check if it's safe to use."

"Oh." Hermione paused to think of how to best avoid the question. "Well, I know which general type of spells I'm worried about it being cursed with. Dark Magic, namely."

Colburn's concerned expression deepened. "Who are you worried would be casting Dark Magic on your wand?"

"Um —" Unsure how to best avoid the question, Hermione made a vague gesture and gave her a sheepish smile.

Colburn hesitated before delicately replying, "Hermione, if someone like another student is cursing your wand to try and bully or intimidate you, that's not okay, and —"

"No, it's not that," Hermione exclaimed in response. She hadn't even thought of that, and at Colburn's worried expression, she repeated, "Really, it's not. I'm not worried that a classmate might have tried to curse my wand. I just, uh, went to London this weekend and might have — er — accidentally stumbled across a Death Eater attack."

Colburn's eyebrows nearly shot off her forehead. "Merlin, are you okay?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," Hermione reassured her. She hurriedly finished, "But I, um, might have kind of sort of accidentally switched wands with a Death Eater which is why I wanted to check if my wand was cursed."

"How do you 'accidentally' switch wands?" she replied with a surprised expression.

"Er — well, the whole situation was really quite chaotic. He tried to curse me, I unmasked him, he tried to curse me again — that sort of thing," Hermione replied. "So somehow I ended up with his wand, and he with mine, but now I have mine back."

"You still have this Death Eater's wand, though?" Colburn said, peering at Hermione's wand amongst the clutter on her desk. "This one is your actual wand, though, correct? The one we want to check for curses?"

Hermione nodded and, pulling the other wand out of her pocket, held it up. "This is the Death Eater's wand. I was using it this morning, and I really hate it. It hurt my grade in Potions this morning because it wouldn't listen to me."

"Using other people's wands can be difficult, especially if the materials greatly differ," Colburn agreed.

"Yes, and it is different from mine. It has the same type of wand core as mine — dragon heartstring – but I think its wood being fir instead of vine makes a big difference," she sighed.

Colburn glanced between the wand in Hermione's hand and the one on her desk, before casually adding, "It looks like the lengths of the wands are different, too. How long is the wand in your hand right now? Twelve inches?"

"Thirteen inches. It's more than three inches longer than my own wand," Hermione replied, gesturing to her wand on the desk. "That's probably another reason why I've been having difficulty using this wand."

Colburn nodded, before hesitating a second and adding, "Out of curiosity, would you mind if I looked at that wand?"

Hermione shrugged and handed the Death Eater's wand to her. "Sure."

Colburn peered at it carefully before giving it a wave. "Not very flexible, is it?" she said nonchalantly.

"I think the term Bill — Ron's brother — used was 'unyielding,'" Hermione replied. "Does that matter?"

"No, not really," she replied, setting the wand down on her desk behind a precarious-looking stack of parchment. "Although if you have the Death Eater's wand, it does make me wonder how he would have been able to curse your wand."

Hermione opened her mouth before clamping it shut again. She hadn't thought of that.

"It's not impossible that he could have borrowed a wand from someone if he was particularly motivated, so it doesn't hurt to check for curses still, but it does mean those curses would be weaker than we might otherwise expect," Colburn briefly explained, before adopting a lightly pedagogical tone. "There are a few ways we can check for curses. Which ones do you already know?"

"There's the Jinx Revealing Charm," Hermione said thoughtfully after a moment.

"That's a good one to start with. Nice and general, but it can miss some of the stronger or more subtle spells. _Roseus Mutatio._" Hermione's wand glowed a rather ugly shade of puce before resolving to a pale lilac and finally returning to its natural color. "Okay, that didn't find anything. Which other ones do you know?"

"I don't think I know any other ones," Hermione shyly added after a second, embarrassed by her lack of knowledge.

"That's okay," Colburn replied with a small smile. "Here are a few other spells we can try." Several incantations later she started going through the drawers of her desk, explaining as she did so, "Your wand doesn't seem to be cursed, but there are some weaker curses that can't be detected through spell work alone. We can use purified Regeson leaves as one last precaution, though. I believe I have some on hand; I just need to find it."

Hermione politely glanced around the cluttered surface of Colburn's desk from her sitting position, when her eyes landed on a copy of the _Daily Prophet_. It seemed to be a Sunday edition, and Hermione abruptly realized that it was open to the obituaries from the most recent Death Eater attack. Feeling as though she might have accidentally found something a bit too personal, and wondering if that was why Colburn had reacted the way she did to learning that Hermione had been in the Death Eater attack, Hermione awkwardly began glancing around at the office's walls. Colburn seemed to notice, for she raised her eyebrows slightly, but she didn't say anything. When Hermione looked back at her professor, she noticed that Colburn had cleared the clutter off of her desk.

"Here's what I was looking for," Colburn finally said, smiling slightly as she pulled a small rusted tin out of a drawer. She set it down next to Hermione's wand on the now-empty surface of the desk and continued, "Purified Regeson leaves activate in response to any spell and lessen their effects, so you if coat your fingers in it before touching your wand it will block any weak spells potentially on your wand."

The tin was filled with a rather disgusting-looking green gelatinous substance, and Hermione was surprised to find that its texture was more reminiscent of grains of sand sliding over her fingers than the sticky goo she had expected. Almost expecting to be jolted back once she touched her wand, she wrapped her fingers around it. Besides the slight warmth from holding her own wand in her hand again, though, nothing happened.

"Doesn't appear to be cursed, then," Colburn cheerfully interrupted Hermione's thoughts,

Hermione quickly wiped the Regeson leaves off on her outer robe before pocketing her wand and grinning. "Thanks so much for your help."

"Any time, Hermione," Colburn replied with a smile. "You may need to rush to not be late to your next class, though."

Hermione quickly glanced at the time before realizing that her free period was almost over, and her next class would begin in only a few minutes. With another hurried "thanks," Hermione began sprinting in the direction of her Transfiguration classroom.

She had barely slid into her seat next to Ron and Harry when McGonagall began promptly began taking attendance.

"Have you been in detention with Snape this entire time?" Ron whispered in a combination of surprise and outrage.

Hermione shook her head. "I was dealing with this," she said, pulling out her wand with a wide smile.

"Is that your actual wand?" Harry whispered, and Hermione nodded.

McGonagall gave an attention-getting cough before starting her lecture, and Hermione mouthed "I'll tell you more later."

After a rather interesting lesson on how to transfigure horned slugs into aconite, the class period was over, and the three of them began walking towards their next class.

"So how _did_ you get your wand back?" Ron asked as they passed by their Charms classroom.

"I received it in the mail with this note," Hermione replied, digging in her pockets and placing the scrap of parchment into Ron's hand. "And it wasn't even cursed!"

" 'I return you your wand with the good faith that you will return me mine,' " Harry read aloud over Ron's shoulder. "Are you going to return it?"

Hermione frowned. She had been so happy to have her wand back that she had not bothered to think about the second part of the note. "I suppose I might as well. Besides, I don't know very much about whether owners can track their wands like wands can track their owners, but if they can…" Hermione shuddered at the mental image of the Death Eater suddenly turning up at Gryffindor Tower to ask for his wand back. "No, definitely simplest to just send it back."

She put her hand in her bag to check for the Death Eater's wand, only to find to her shock that it wasn't there. Suddenly worrying that she had somehow managed to lose it, she immediately began rifling through her book bag more meticulously.

"What are you looking for?" Ron said as she continued searching through her bag.

"The wand — it's not here. I swear I just had it!" Hermione exclaimed. "I was using it in Potions, and then I had it with me in the Great Hall, and then Colburn was looking at it — maybe I left it in her office." She considered for a moment before saying, "You two go on to Herbology. I'll catch up."

She ran to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, where a few students were already sitting for the start of the next class period. Colburn looked up from her desk with a surprised expression at seeing Hermione and said, "Anything the matter, Hermione?"

Still tired from running, Hermione panted, "Did I happen to leave my other wand in your office?"

"No, I don't think so," Colburn politely shook her head. "I'll let you know if I see it, though."

Feeling dejected that her lead had fallen cold so quickly, Hermione began walking towards the greenhouses. She sighed and silently thought to herself that hopefully the Death Eater didn't mind being without his wand, because it didn't seem he would be getting it back.

* * *

><p>Liseli let out a sigh as her last class of the day finished and, after wishing her students a pleasant evening, she began making her way to her office. She charmed the lights on, and set down a stack of homework on her now-clear desk, before opening the top-most drawer of her desk. It was here where she had moved her desk's clutter when searching for the purified Regeson leaves and, making sure the door was closed, she delicately pulled a wand out of the drawer.<p>

Fir and dragon heartstring. Thirteen inches. Unyielding.

It was a pity Hermione had noticed the wand was missing so quickly, because she hated the thought of lying to her students, even if it was something small like not knowing where the wand had gone. Still, the wand had looked familiar, and if it was true that no two wands' properties were identical —

Liseli pulled out a small piece of parchment and dipped her quill into an inkwell. The possibilities of what she could write seemed to crowd the empty parchment as her quill hovered over it, a dark splotch forming from its dripping ink.

Finally writing her letter, she carefully wrapped the wand in parchment before giving them to her owl and sighing as she watched its wings beat into the distance. The letter contained a single line:

_I believe this wand belongs to you_.

…

A/N: A boatload of thanks to kci47 for beta-reading and suggesting the idea that transfigured ingredients shouldn't be used in potions!


	23. Ch22: Severus's Christmas

A/N: No mini-summary for this chapter because, while the Hermione-DE subplot from the previous chapters will continue to be intertwined in the story, this chapter isn't directly related to it.

**Chapter 22: Severus's Christmas**

It smelled a bit like stale perfume, like the scent of dozens of crinkled sachets that had been lovingly filled with lavender and tied closed with pastel-colored ribbons before being gently nestled in dresser drawers and promptly forgotten. A gray-haired woman was sitting behind the receptionist's desk, and she glanced up at the sound of Severus's attention-getting cough. She raised her eyebrows slightly as she briefly looked him up and down, and Severus uncomfortably gave his outfit another once-over. He always felt awkward when dressing as a Muggle, as though the word "Wizard" was permanently etched across his forehead. It didn't help that Muggle fashion had the annoying tendency to change every few years.

"Who are you are here to see?" the receptionist politely asked.

"Eileen Snape."

"Let's see…That would be room 19. Take the hallway on your left."

With a curt nod, Severus strode towards the back of the building, noting the red and gold tinsel hung on the walls along with the pictures of Yule logs, pieces of mistletoe, and other appropriately festive decorations that lined the hallway. By room 13, the hallway split into two separate hallways, and Severus paused by a wreath to check the numbering scheme of the two branches.

"IT'S A HOLLY JOLLY CHRISTMAS — "

Severus jumped at such an abrupt sound in the otherwise still hallways. The wreath appeared to be singing, and resisting his first thought — which had been to hex it into silence — he glanced between the branches of the wreath to realize that the wreath was actually made of plastic and wire. Presumably it was some sort of Muggle recording and not the enchantment put on the suits of armor at Hogwarts that made them spontaneously burst into song. With an annoyed sigh he continued until he reached room 19.

The woman who swung open the door to room 19 had light grey, nearly white hair, and a protruding beak of a hooked nose. "Hello, Severus," she greeted him with a slight smile that weakly crinkled the corners of her eyes.

"Hello, Mother."

She gestured him inside to a small room with two wooden chairs around an octagonally-shaped table and a stove along one of the walls; an open door revealed an adjacent bedroom with faded yellow wallpaper and a vase filled with artificial flowers. It wasn't terribly large, but as far as Muggle retirement homes went, it was one of the nicer ones. "Would you like anything to drink? Tea? Water?" Eileen offered.

"No, thank you. I can't stay very long —"

"Of course you can't, just like previous years." Eileen gave a tight-lipped smile before going to one of the cupboards and pulling out a small plate of store-bought cookies. They were shaped like Christmas trees and liberally covered with green sprinkles. Severus wrinkled his nose as he recognized them — they were the same brand of cheap, stale cookies she had bought for Christmas when he was a child. He politely avoided taking any even as she gently nudged the plate in his direction. She continued, "You're looking so thin and pale. Is everything alright?"

"I'm always pale, Mother. You ought to know — I get it from you."

"Yes, well, I meant more so than usual." She gave the plate of cookies another nudge.

"I'm fine." He pointedly looked over the cookies.

Eileen gave him a quizzical look before leaning forward and abruptly taking the collar of his shirt between her thumb and index finger. "Severus, why are you wearing women's clothes?"

He frowned in bewilderment, and gently pulled her hands away from his collar. "I am not. I've seen plenty of Muggle men wear button-down shirts like this."

"No, they don't. Men's shirts button up on the right side, not the left. I've learned some things from being a seamstress for so many years."

Severus glanced down again at his outfit. "In that case, the Muggle store I bought this from failed to inform me of the gender of the shirt I was buying," he dryly explained. "Is that why the receptionist was giving me an odd look?"

"That was probably because you're carrying a purse."

"I am not," he rebutted for the second time in mere seconds. "It is a shoulder bag."

"If a Muggle man is carrying a bag, it's almost always interpreted as a purse," Eileen explained as she settled further into her seat.

"And how else am I supposed to keep my wand with me when these blasted Muggle trousers don't have long enough pockets?"

"Muggle men don't carry wands with them — "

"Yes, I'm aware," he dryly interrupted.

"And in the Muggle world you don't need to carry a wand with you," she continued, unperturbed. "I should hope you remember at least that much from your upbringing."

"Yes, I remember. Although I still fail to see why you chose to continue living as a Muggle even after Father — " he cut himself off.

"Oh, you know, it's not that bad living as a Muggle. I've grown rather used to it and, well, ever since Tobias passed away, it's helped me feel close to him." She placed a hand over her heart and gave a sad smile. "Besides, I doubt I can cast very much in the way of spells anymore. You know what they say, 'A broken heart leads to difficulties in the magic art.'"

Severus wrinkled his nose in distaste. He had never understood how his mother could like, much less love, his father. Given the control he had demanded over every inch of her life and the hideous yelling matches they had engaged in on a near weekly basis, Severus was quite certain that his mother was better off without him. "Yes, well, as long as you're happy," he flatly replied, before continuing with slightly more emotion. "Even though you live with the Muggles now, I still feel that I ought to inform you that the Dark Lord has risen to power again."

Eileen waved a hand. "Yes, I've heard. Just because you visit your dear mother only once a year on Christmas, doesn't mean I hear nothing from the Wizarding world."

"Good. The reason I am telling you this, though," he pressed, "is because I think that now it would be unwise for you to make any attempts to contact me through Muggle means."

"Pray tell, how am I supposed to contact you through 'Muggle means' if you disconnected the phone line from Spinner's End years ago?"

"Mother, I've told you a thousand times there's no point in paying a monthly phone bill if I don't use the phone."

"Phones are certainly cleaner and easier than using the floo," she smoothly rebutted.

"My point," Severus continued with an irritated tone, "is that you shouldn't send any mail to Spinner's End through the Muggle post, as I know you do occasionally."

"Yes, yes," she waved another unconcerned hand, before gently nudging the Christmas cookies towards him again and continuing. "Now, tell me how everything has been with you since I saw you last Christmas."

After listening to his mother talk about her bridge club, ingesting more Christmas cookies than he cared to admit, and telling his mother for the fourth time that, no, there were no grandchildren on the horizon, Severus bade her goodbye and took his leave; he had a Christmas gathering at the Malfoy's that evening he was planning on attending.

Once he had Apparated to outside of Malfoy Manor, he quietly breathed a sigh of relief at being back in the Wizarding world. Somehow spending time in the Muggle world had a way of leaving him on edge, not at least because he could not draw his wand quickly if needed.

"Severus, it's lovely to see you," Narcissa greeted him at the door and ushered him inside. "It's only the expected crowd tonight. Oh, and Theodore Nott. He's such a nice boy; I always wish he and Draco would spend more time together, so when Draco asked to invite him, I said he could."

"You know I am always…_overjoyed_ to see more of my students outside of class than necessary," Severus replied in a monotone.

Narcissa apparently decided to ignore his comment for she continued, "I do feel bad for Theo. I overheard him talking with Draco earlier, and I think he hoped his father was going to be here. I don't think Theo's seen him since the Azkaban break-out."

The two of them made their way to a spacious room where Rabastan and Rodolphus were idly chit-chatting on a comfortable-looking sofa while Draco and Theo played chess on the opposite side of the room. In the corner of the room there was a massive Christmas tree decorated with shining red and green baubles, illuminated by twinkling candles nestled between the tree's branches – clearly enchanted as to avoid catching fire. On the walls of the room there hung thick garlands of holly intertwined with cheerful red ribbons and more glistening lights.

"Would you like any help with the cooking?" Severus offered, turning toward Narcissa. He still remembered the last meal Narcissa had cooked and wondered if he could at least hide the salt before it was too late.

"If you like," Narcissa replied, walking towards the kitchen as Severus followed her. "Bella's helping, too."

Severus immediately wondered if it was too late to retract his offer. Somehow he would have preferred to not spend any part of Christmas in close quarters with Bellatrix, and when they walked into the kitchen he was greeted by the sight of Bellatrix standing by a pot with a sour expression on her face.

"Yes, Snape, why don't you take over preparing the stew? It should be just like brewing a potion," she said, her tone suggesting that if she wasn't related to Narcissa by blood she would be far, far away from the kitchen

"Brewing is an art. Cooking is not," Severus said, his upper lip curling.

Bellatrix vaguely gestured towards the pot of bubbling water, the assortment of vegetables on the counter, and the cutlery block. "Cauldron, ingredients, tools for preparation. I see no difference. Go on, everything is just waiting to be used."

"I can think of several uses right now for the cutlery at least," Severus replied coldly.

On the other side of the kitchen, Narcissa was holding a hand to her temples and muttering something about 'Christmas spirit' under her breath. She had just turned towards them when her exasperated expression turned to one of surprise. "Why are there chess pieces playing on my cutlery block?"

Severus and Bellatrix both turned their heads in unison to see that there did indeed seem to be several chess pieces on the cutlery block. Two black pieces seemed to be dragging a white piece towards the collection of knives.

"Draco!" Narcissa called, and he soon appeared at the kitchen door with Theo. "I believe you may have lost some of your chess pieces recently."

Draco's eyes scanned the kitchen before settling on the pieces, and a cheerful expression formed on his face. Delicately picking up the pieces he said, "There they are — we were just looking for these."

Theo mumbled to Draco as they turned to leave the kitchen, "Were — were your pieces trying to decapitate my piece? Because that is certainly what it looked like."

Severus could distantly hear Draco nonchalantly explain, "Well, they did use to be my Aunt Bellatrix's pieces…"

"Severus, Bellatrix," Narcissa said, causing Severus to re-focus his attention. "Perhaps it would be better if only one of you helped me cook. Bella, you've already started on the stew, so why don't you continue that? Severus, why don't you help by going to the cellar and picking out a bottle of wine for dinner?"

Bellatrix frowned slightly, but otherwise acquiesced to Narcissa's request by turning back to the pot and beginning to chat with Narcissa as though Severus had ceased to exist. Apparently, as Bellatrix was recounting, Rabastan and Draco had been discussing earlier in the evening what their titles ought to be for how they were related to each other, before deciding that they might as well call each other uncle and nephew. The women's conversation faded as Severus walked away from the kitchen, and on his way to the basement he noticed that Draco and Theo had returned to their chess game, with Rabastan now watching their game while Rodolphus silently read the Daily Prophet.

Severus had just returned with a bottle of Elf-made wine in his hand when he caught the tail-end of one of Draco's comments, "…and I can't believe all of the reading Snape assigned over winter break. It's supposed to be _break_, as in a 'break from work', not break as in 'break our backs'. And —"

Theo's eyes went wide as he noticed Severus glowering at them and, with a not-so-subtle kick, Theo redirected Draco's attention. Upon noticing Severus's presence, Draco abruptly attempted a stuttering transition, "And, I mean, uh — at least for Potions it's such great fun to spend all of the winter holidays reading about it! As opposed to, uh, other classes. Hey, Theo, what did you think of Colburn's final exam? I thought it was downright impossible; I bet even Granger didn't do well."

Satisfied by Draco's embarrassment, Severus turned to set the bottle of wine down on the table.

"There's a Colburn teaching at Hogwarts?" Rabastan said conversationally. "I haven't heard that name in a while. They're an old family; I remember taking one of them to their first Death Eater meeting."

"Apparently you don't read the Daily Prophet as diligently as your brother, given their name was mentioned in it just a few months ago with the Azkaban break-out," Severus disinterestedly replied.

"Ah, no, I don't read the Daily Prophet. With all due respect to my brother, they can be a bit sensationalist for my taste," Rabastan said. Rodolphus raised his eyebrows but silently continued reading. Rabastan shook his head slightly as he continued, "I doubt it was the Colburn I knew, anyway. I think it was — yes it was the youngest one I brought. Impulsive thing, even at 17. Had something to prove, and those are the types that always regret joining and end up dead."

"I'll be sure to offer your condolences to Colburn on the subject of her sibling the next time I see her," Severus said dryly, vaguely wondering to himself if he should have fetched more than one bottle of wine.

A mildly surprised expression appeared on Rabastan's face. "Ah, I assumed it was one of the brothers at Hogwarts," he replied with a wave of his hand before returning his attention to the chess game.

Judging by how Draco seemed to be glowering at the board, it seemed a safe assumption that, despite the relatively flat expression on Theo's face, Draco was losing. Severus had looked at the board just long enough to find several winning moves Theo could make when he began to notice a faint smell of burning.

Rabastan, too, seemed to have noticed for he sniffed a few times before saying aloud, "I'm going to see if Narcissa needs any more help in the kitchen."

He disappeared in the direction of the kitchen, leaving Severus alone with Rodolphus and the chess players. Looking around the room, something occurred to Severus, and he said, "Draco, where is your father? I have not seen him tonight yet."

Draco shrugged. "Probably somewhere else in the house. He never helps with the cooking."

"Lucius went out," Rodolphus grunted from behind his newspaper. "He said he had something he needed to do."

Severus frowned. Lucius could hardly be running a routine errand given his fugitive status, but Severus's speculations on where Lucius may have gone were interrupted when he noticed wisps of smoke coming from the kitchen. As much as he wanted to avoid Bellatrix, he was beginning to worry the house might burn down soon if they continued cooking the way they were.

When Severus entered the kitchen, Narcissa and Rabastan were standing around the opened oven and waving away the smoke that was coming from it. Bellatrix was standing some distance away, her nose wrinkled as she watched.

"I think we may have burned the roast," Narcissa explained to Severus, as though the plumes of smoke could have been caused by something else.

"We could try to remove the burnt outer layers of the roast," Rabastan said thoughtfully, continuing to wave the smoke away with his wand.

"Yes, that could help." Narcissa added as an afterthought, "Although I do hope the inner portion of the roast isn't undercooked like last time."

"Well, let's at least pull it out of the oven —" Rabastan cut off his words with a yelp of pain, and with a loud metallic clattering the pan had fallen to the ground. Rabastan quickly pulled up his left sleeve and, wondering if he had missed something, Severus pulled up his own left sleeve, closely followed by Bellatrix. After a moment Rabastan said, "Oh, I thought it was my Dark Mark burning. I guess it was just the pan touching my arm."

Bellatrix gave an annoyed tut, while Narcissa sympathetically asked, "Do you want a healing salve for the burn?"

"It's fine, I'm used to my left forearm getting burned," Rabastan replied cheerfully.

"Alright, well, we should be ready to serve dinner soon. Bella, Severus, do you two want to set the table? — Oh, don't look at me like that," Narcissa wearily interrupted herself at the displeased expressions that simultaneously appeared on their faces. "You don't even have to talk to each other, all you have to do is civilly co-exist in the same room."

"I'll take care of the place settings, Snape. You can do the side dishes and wine pouring," Bellatrix said in a tone that was an impressive approximation of civil.

Bellatrix and Severus had just finished wordlessly setting the table, when there was the sound of somebody at the door. Severus could just hear Narcissa's quiet voice exclaim, "Lucius! You were gone for so long. Next time at least tell me where you are going."

"I was finding Theo's Christmas gift," came Lucius's voice as he walked towards the main room the dinner guests were all in.

"Theo's here?" a man's voice said from behind Lucius, and Severus noticed the form of Benjamin Nott standing behind Lucius as they walked into the room.

"Father?" Theo blurt out, immediately jumping up from his chess game and hugging his father.

"Merry Christmas, Theo," Lucius said, taking a seat at the table. "Now, let's eat!"

…

A/N:Happy start of the holiday seasons! If you're particularly curious to read Lucius's adventure as he attempted to track down Theo's father and/or read an earlier version of this chapter told from Draco's perspective, go check out my piece "Eight Death Eater Christmases".

Also, based on everything I can find, all we know in canon is that Snape's parents no longer live at Spinner's End; we don't technically know in canon whether they're still alive or not, which is why I decided to have Eileen still be alive.

Anyway, much thanks to the fantastic kci47 for beta-reading!


	24. Ch23: Liseli's Christmas

_Previously in Chapter 22: _Snape visited his mother for Christmas and warned her to not contact him at Spinner's end through Muggle means, before spending the rest of Christmas evening with the Malfoys and the Lestranges.

**Chapter 23: Liseli's Christmas**

Liseli glanced up at the clock prominently hanging above the Gringotts counters. She was running just a bit late and was silently wishing the queue in front of her would move more quickly; given that withdrawing money from Gringotts was normally relatively fast, she always found herself wondering how the queues always managed to seem to move so slowly.

When she finally reached the front of one of the several lines, Liseli slid her vault key to the teller. "I would like to make a withdrawal of 30 Galleons."

"Name?" the goblin said, picking the key up between two gnarled fingers and examining it in the light.

"Colburn, Liseli."

The goblin's eyes narrowed and he pushed the key across the counter back to Liseli. "We don't like your sort here. Next!"

She was suddenly remembering why she normally did all of her withdrawals and deposits by mail. Although she personally had done nothing to offend the goblins, goblins were known for taking great pride in their currency, and just being related to her brother Tarazet the counterfeiter was enough to ignite their anger. In an offended tone, she loudly exclaimed, "Excuse me, I am a customer and I will not allow Gringotts to unjustly keep my hard-earned income."

The man standing at the adjacent teller turned towards her with a sympathetic expression and sharply addressed her goblin, "I should hope you're not defying Ministry Ordinance XI 5B(i). It requires that all banks serve all wizards and witches, regardless of any extenuating circumstances."

The goblin gave a sneer towards the man before snatching Liseli's key from the counter and disappearing. He reappeared a few moments later and wordlessly shoved a small coin purse with the requested withdrawal amount across the counter. "Next!"

The man at the counter next to her appeared to have received his withdrawal at the same time, for he exited Gringotts only a few steps behind Liseli. She turned towards him with a grateful smile and said, "Thank you. I forgot how aggravating the goblins can be."

The man gave a warm smile in response. "It's no problem. I've always found it odd that the goblins complain about wizards discriminating against them, when the goblins themselves are rather discriminatory."

"Yes, quite. Well, thank you again."

The man nodded and gave a small wave. When he and Liseli turned to leave, though, they began walking in the same direction, and he let out a laugh. "Well, hello again! I feel like I just saw you, somehow."

Liseli gave an awkward laugh and replied, "Where are you going?"

"The market at the end of Diagon Alley. I'm supposed to bring a bottle of wine to Christmas supper," the man said jovially.

There was something familiar-looking about the man, but besides a perpetually friendly expression on his face, he was rather plain-looking, and Liseli couldn't place where she might have met him before.

"I'm going there, too. I'm buying ingredients for Christmas supper," Liseli replied with a small smile. Debating whether she should try and engage the stranger in small talk, she finally decided that he seemed like a pleasant enough person. "What type of wine are you planning to buy?"

To her surprise, the man let out a laugh. "Ah, there's the question. The hostess for the Christmas supper asked me to bring a bottle of Spanish wine. The hostess's future daughter-in-law, though, said that any types of wine besides French wines were atrocious. Cue her and the hostess bickering for the next twenty minutes about which type of wine is better. Also cue my sneaking out the back door to go and buy said bottle of wine."

"Ah, so you're on the run, is that it?" Liseli gave the man a teasing grin.

"Yes, but not from their quarreling. I'm on the run from potato-induced concussions."

"Potato-induced — ?"

"Concussions, yes. Two of the hostesses's sons are among the biggest trouble-makers I know," he accompanied his words with an almost proud smile. "This year they're actually trying to help prepare the Christmas supper, but they're not very familiar with cooking spells, so their attempts to skin potatoes are causing the potatoes to shoot out of their skins at approximately 50 miles an hour."

"I can see how that might lead to potato-induced concussions."

"Thankfully, I have yet to receive one such concussion, but I would like to keep it that way," the man said with a smile, and he held open the market's door for Liseli once they had reached the rather crowded building.

"Well, have fun wine shopping. It was nice meeting you," she gave a small wave and was about to walk away, when she hesitated and turned back towards the man. "Do I know you? You seem familiar, somehow."

The man let out a relieved laugh as he picked a bottle of wine from the display. "I was just thinking the same thing about you. Wait—don't tell me your name. Let me guess. Does it start with an…'L'?" Liseli nodded, and he continued, "Let's see, L…L...Leena Galton?"

"For a second you were so close; I even used to know a Leena Galton," Liseli grinned, before proffering her hand. "Liseli Colburn."

"Remus Lupin," he said, shaking her hand.

Lupin – she recognized the name as belonging to the man who had been fired from the Defense Against the Dark Arts position for being a werewolf. Although she could assume that he wouldn't be traveling in public if it was the night of a full moon, Liseli still found herself reflexively wondering what phase of the moon they were on.

Abruptly realizing the awkward silence that had fallen, she hurriedly accompanied her next words with a polite smile. "We were at Hogwarts at the same time, weren't we? I seem to recall you being a Prefect, one of the fairer ones."

He gave a small smile, but it was clear he had noticed the change in her demeanor. "Ah, that's nice of you; funny what people remember. I don't recall ever assigning you detention, so I suppose that works both ways."

"Yes, I suppose it does." Her school-aged interactions with Lupin had been quite limited, but surely he hadn't been a werewolf even back then? Searching for a topic of conversation, Liseli's thoughts landed on the other Gryffindors of Lupin's year and she awkwardly began, "I'm sorry about Sirius. I saw the articles in the Daily Prophet this summer, and I know you two used to be friends."

Lupin gave a grim nod. "Casualties are known to happen in battle." He looked back down at the bottle of wine in his hands before solemnly adding, "I don't know if I ever offered you my condolences on Regulus way back when. You two were good friends, weren't you?"

"Er — no, we weren't," Liseli lied. She shuddered at the thought of someone thinking she had ever been good friends with a known Death Eater.

"Ah, I see." An awkward silence stretched between them before Lupin continued, "Well, Molly's probably wondering where I am by now. I should be returning with the wine." With a polite nod, he walked towards the cashiers.

Liseli turned her attention away from Lupin and the neatly stacked racks of wine. Nearby there were dozens of large wooden barrels filled with a variety of dried goods — tri-colored beans, wheat for making bread from scratch, tea leaves with a multitude of different scents — and also dozens of smaller reed baskets overflowing with vegetables and fruits of all kinds and colors. Straightening her shoulders, she pulled out her grocery list and began strolling through the different aisles.

After buying all of the ingredients and Dispparating, she found herself standing in front of a familiar-looking door. It had been a number of years since she had last visited this house, but she swore she still had every detail memorized, down to the door's green paint chips and the slant of the hill she was standing on. She smiled to herself at the small wreath hung on the door, but as she sharply knocked, she found herself wondering if this was a good idea after all.

The door soon swung open to reveal Tarazet's face. She had owled him about a week ago asking if he wanted to spend Christmas together, and the tone of his letters in response was nearly identical to the expression on his face now.

Detached. Politely reserved. Skeptically curious.

"Liseli," he curtly greeted her with a nod.

"I brought food for us to cook a stew for supper." Liseli held up a bag from the market, before adding in a jesting tone, "Hopefully we won't destroy the kitchen."

Tarazet raised an eyebrow, a flat expression on his face. They silently walked towards the kitchen, and the only sound as they laid out the food was the rustling of the bags.

Once everything was neatly organized on the counter, there was a slight pause before Liseli started with a cough, "I thought we should start by sauteeing the mushrooms and onions. What do you think?"

"I'll follow your lead," he said in a politely detached tone, pulling out two cutting boards. "Knives are in the drawer you're standing in front of."

"Dicing Charms are faster," she said with a shrug, placing an onion on her cutting board and pulling out her wand.

Tarazet glanced at her out of the corner of his eye before silently putting a handful of mushrooms on his cutting board. With a wave of his wand, he Transfigured one of the mushrooms into a knife that he began using to slice the other mushrooms.

For a few minutes, the only sound in the kitchen was that of vegetables being chopped. Liseli found herself trying to recall if Dicing Charms were the sort of thing she had been taught in school or if she had learned all of the household charms she knew from her mother. After another moment, she spoke. "Er — I can teach you how to do a Dicing Charm, if you want."

"It's fine." He carefully brushed the chopped mushrooms to the side of his cutting board before placing another handful of mushrooms down. "When you need them, there are pans in the cabinet next to the oven."

Taking out a pan, Liseli carefully lit one of the stove's burners with her wand, and soon the sound of sauteeing onions was added to the otherwise near silence in the room. The minutes crept by, and Liseli found herself focusing an undue amount of attention on occasionally prodding the onions to ensure they didn't burn, while Tarazet continued methodically chopping mushrooms.

After unnecessarily prodding the onions for the fourteenth time, Liseli said, "So, how have you been?"

He continued chopping the last of the mushrooms, and for a second she thought he might not even reply. "I've been fine. Should I add the mushrooms to the same pan as the onions?" he added, gesturing towards his now-full cutting board.

"Yes, that would be good." She began mixing the two of them together before gesturing towards the three potatoes resting on the counter. "We can start washing and skinning these while we boil a pot of water. I wouldn't recommend using a spell to skin them, though. Apparently it can result in potato-induced concussions."

Tarazet raised an eyebrow before saying in his same detached manner, "I see."

"I was — er – talking with somebody at the market earlier, and he was talking about potatoes and — well, nevermind," she fumbled, deciding to focus her attention on her potato instead.

They skinned potatoes in silence for several minutes, and she soon found her gaze resting on all of the ingredients that still remained to be used. It was going to be a long evening.

She was about to resign herself to an evening of being nearly mute, when Tarazet finally spoke, his gazed fixed on his half-skinned potato. "Liseli, why are you here?"

She swallowed, unsure what to say. "I'm here because we owled to set this up?"

Tarazet continued carefully skinning his potato. "You know what I meant. We haven't talked in months. The last time we saw each other you threw me out of your office."

Liseli bit her lip. She had not even been entirely able to explain to herself how everything had come together just so to cause her to owl Tarazet. Following Tarazet's lead, she focused all of her attention on her potato as she spoke, "Deneb and Marie-Ange sent me a Christmas card about a week ago." She supposed that was as good of a starting point as any.

"You mean Marie-Ange sent you a Christmas card. I can't imagine Deneb bothering with things like Christmas cards."

"Yes, well, Marie-Ange sent me a Christmas card. I – er – brought it with me in case you wanted to see what our nieces and nephews looked like," she said, summoning her bag and beginning to search through it.

"So you normally spend Christmas with them and decided you wanted a change of pace?" he replied, setting down his now-skinned potato and peering into the pot of nearly boiling water.

"No, they always spend Christmas in France with Marie-Ange's family, ever since Mother and Father passed away. But the card made me start thinking – ah, here it is." Pulling out a photo clipped to a small scroll of parchment, she handed both of them to Tarazet. He took the card, his eyes glancing between all of the faces in the photo, as she quietly finished, "The card made me start thinking about family. About Deneb, and Marie-Ange, and our nieces and nephews, and you."

His gaze broke from the Christmas card, flicking up to Liseli's face and steadily making eye contact for the first time that evening. He returned his attention back to the photo in his hands before replying. "You still haven't my answered my question."

"I just – Merlin, Tarazet – I don't know what to say. There's a war going on. I worry about you," she replied quietly, fixing her gaze on him. "I see the obituaries every Sunday and sometimes I can't help but wonder – what if – I mean, my students have lost loved ones to this war. What if one day it's your name on that list? And we hadn't even spent Christmas together?"

He was regarding her with a mildly surprised expression on his face. For a moment the kitchen was still, the only sound the now boiling pot. "Since when do you worry about me?"

"What do you mean, 'since when'? Of course I worry about you!" Liseli exclaimed. "You were my best friend growing up. That's not going to change just because we couldn't talk during your Azkaban sentence."

"No, but given that just _before_ my Azkaban sentence you — " Tarazet began with a rising edge to his voice, but he cut himself off with a startled exclamation as the pot began boiling over onto the stove.

Liseli hurriedly cast a spell to extinguish the stove as Tarazet pulled the pot from one burner to another, dropping the Christmas card in his hand as he did so. Hoping to redirect the conversation another direction, Liseli reached down to pick up the card and began, "I suppose we should be paying more attention to the cooking."

By the time she looked up, he had completely turned his attention away from her. Instead he was cleaning up the spilled water, rinsing the cutting boards, and starting to skin the last potato. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought he was simply following her suggestion, but his pursed lips and the intensely conflicted expression on his face suggested otherwise. She had just pocketed the card when he looked at her out of the corner of his eye and said, "What happened to your hands?"

"Pardon?" she replied, cautiously moving to slice more vegetables.

"Your palms. I didn't notice it until now," he said, continuing to skin the potato.

She glanced down at her hands with a surprised expression. She barely noticed it anymore, but she supposed he was referring to the light pink scars criss-crossing her skin. In an annoyed tone, she replied "I came across Seginus two weeks ago, and I think this was his idea of a joke."

A flash of anger crossed Tarazet's face and, frowning, he replied, "That's not acceptable. I'll talk to him." He set down the now-skinned potato before adding in a more neutral tone, "Have you tried a scar-minimizing salve yet? I think I have some in the study."

"No, but if you have some, I suppose I might as well," Liseli replied slowly.

They walked towards a room near the front of the house, where there was a desk that had several rows of neatly lined potions bottles. Peering at the labels, Tarazet muttered to himself, "Now would it be under 's' for 'scar' or 'd' for the Latin name?"

Liseli looked away, glancing around the study. Tarazet was now living in their parents' old house, and she could easily remember their father sitting at the worn pine desk that now housed the potions, his quill making a scritch-scratch sound as he worked on something or other for his job.

"Where do you get all of these potions from, Tarazet?" Liseli asked, peering at a bubbling rose-coloured one near the front of the desk.

His gaze flickered in Liseli's direction before returning to the label of the potion closest to him. "Most of them I brew myself. The rarer ones I buy from Mundungus Fletcher, but it is quite hard to find him most of the time. Why do you ask?"

"I was just curious," she replied, wondering if she should be helping him look for the potion. In an attempt to make conversation she added, "Snape – the Potions professor – has a store of potions at Hogwarts, which is where I got the original healing salve from. He warned me it might not be enough to avoid minor scarring, and apparently he was right."

"You probably could have gotten a scar-minimizing one from there, too. They're relatively easy to brew and keep on hand," Tarazet said, his eyes still flicking between the potions in front of them.

Liseli shrugged and glanced around the study again. The room's imposing dark brown bookcases were still lined up next to each other on the wall with the window, although their contents were more organized than she remembered. Instead of some of the books being haphazardly stacked on top of each other, they were all neatly slid into their shelves and sorted by subject. "To be honest, I haven't been thinking of the scars on my hands. That, and I've been trying to avoid having anything to do with the potions storeroom unless necessary, ever since Snape accused me of taking potions from it."

Tarazet paused, his hand outstretched towards a flask near the middle of the desk. "Why did Snape do that?"

"Well — er — mainly because I have been," she said, fighting the urge to fidget with one of the potion vials near her hand. "There's not enough evidence for _him_ to know that, though."

A crease formed on Tarazet's forehead. "What have you been needing healing potions for?"

"Have you found the salve yet?" she replied, rather as though she had not heard the question.

His eyes flicked in her direction, looking as though he wanted to say something, but instead he looked back at the potions in front of them. "Here it is — scar-minimizing salve," he said, plucking a blue flask from the desktop and handing it to her.

"Thanks," she said, removing the cork from the flask with a faint pop, while Tarazet began straightening the rows of potions vials.

Liseli was applying the salve and idly thinking to herself that the vials really could not be any more straight than they already were when Tarazet spoke again. "How old is Didier now?"

She corked the potion in her hand, before thoughtfully replying, "I don't know exactly how old he is. Marie-Ange said he's a year away from graduating, though, so he must be 16 or 17."

"The last time I saw him he was just a baby," Tarazet replied quietly, a hint of a sad smile on his lips. "What houses are he and the oldest girl in?"

"They don't have houses; Didier and Simone both go to Beauxbatons," Liseli explained, setting the blue flask back in its designated location on the desk. Glancing down at her open palms, she said, "The potion seems to have worked; my scars are gone."

"That's good," he replied, glancing her direction hesitantly before looking back at the desk and straightening another potions vial.

Liseli nodded and made to walk back to the kitchen, when he spoke again.

"Listen, Liseli -" he determinedly began, finally pulling his hand away from the potions vial he had been straightening and turning towards her with an earnest expression. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry about stopping by Hogwarts unexpectedly that time in October. I know visitors to the castle are frowned upon during the school year, and it wasn't fair of me to put you in that position."

Liseli was torn between surprise at the unexpected apology and embarrassment at the memory of how she had reacted. She finally replied with a small smile, "Just owl first next time, alright? There's a coffee shop just outside of Diagon Alley I have been meaning to try. Maybe we could meet up there."

"I'd like that," Tarazet replied, his lips turning up in a smile.

By the time they had finally finished cooking ("Does this look done to you?"), eating ("That was more filling than I expected"), and talking ("Diagon Alley's bookstore really is better than Hogsmeade's"), it was several hours later. Stifling a yawn, Liseli said her goodbyes and Apparated back to outside of Hogwarts' anti-Apparition barrier.

She had been walking along the winding stone path to Hogwarts' entrance for only a few minutes when she heard the sound of somebody walking behind her. Turning around, she noticed a figure dressed in all black walking her direction. After looking for a second, she recognized the figure as Snape; he, too, seemed to be returning to Hogwarts. For a second Liseli debated the politest course of action, before deciding she should wait for him to catch up instead of continuing to walk and ignoring him.

"Hello, Snape," she said once he was closer.

"Colburn," he greeted her without slowing his pace.

"Did you have a nice Christmas?" Liseli ventured as the two of them began walking side-by-side.

"It was fine."

They continued silently for several minutes, the snow crunching beneath their feet. Liseli had forgotten how hard it was to make small talk with him. "Did you see family?"

"Friends – the Malfoys and their family." Once they reached the gates of Hogwarts, Snape pulled out his wand and began casting the necessary enchantments to enter. The gates had just creaked open when he turned his head slightly to look at Liseli. "Lestrange – one of the dinner guests tonight - actually mentioned your family. He said I should offer condolences on the youngest Colburn sibling."

Liseli raised an eyebrow. She had long since gathered that Snape seemed to enjoy provoking her, and this seemed to be yet another instance. She neutrally replied, "Why? Is something horrendous going to happen to me?"

"Pardon?"

"You are aware you just offered me condolences on myself, are you not? I am the youngest," she said, unfazed.

Snape gave her a suspiciously scrutinizing look but remained silent as they reached the entrance to the castle. They were shaking the snow from their boots when he quietly said, "That is odd, because Lestrange seemed to believe the youngest Colburn sibling was likely dead after joining the Death Eaters. That is why he was offering condolences."

Liseli looked at him, momentarily speechless. Snape continued walking into the castle, leaving her to hurriedly catch up. She finally brusquely said, "Well, all of us are still alive, so clearly he was incorrect. He must have thought Seginus or Matar had been injured in some battle or other."

"And here I thought you had just said you were the youngest," he said lightly.

She pursed her lips. "Clearly he misremembered our ages."

"Ah," Snape replied simply as they descended into the depths of the dungeons, and Liseli uneasily crossed her arms at the nearly disbelieving tone he had used.

Neither of them spoke again until they reached the corridor with both of their quarters. Liseli had turned to silently open her quarter's door and was thankful that she would soon be out of Snape's presence when she frowned and grit her teeth. She could practically feel Snape's gaze burning into the back of her head.

"What?" she said, facing him.

His expression was somehow simultaneously blank and scrutinizing. "Nothing," he drawled, his robes billowing behind him as he finally disappeared into his quarters.

For a moment she simply stared at his now-closed door, shifting her weight uncomfortably. Surely he didn't truly believe that – ?

With one last glance, she retreated to her quarters while muttering under her breath, "Merry Christmas to you, too."

…

A/N: Many thanks to the fantabulous kci47 for beta-reading! Unfortunately, I'm not quite sure when I'll be able to post the next chapter. I've already written drafts of about the next 7 chapters (and I have outlines for the chapters beyond that), so more chapters will definitely be coming, I'm just not sure exactly when. Anyway, I always love hearing from my readers, even in just a two-word review :)

Happy holidays to everyone!


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